


Butterfly Wings

by CrownedAnxietyAttack



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Greek Mythology, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Improper Use of Pronouns, Incest, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Smut, Trans!Ford, Trials, eventual stancest, mentions of sexual abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-24
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-05-28 17:43:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 38,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6338923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrownedAnxietyAttack/pseuds/CrownedAnxietyAttack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was common knowledge that no mere mortal should ever try to compete against a deity. To challenge a god or goddess would be sentencing themself to death. For gods found themselves better than humans and they had the power to enforce their beliefs on others. If anyone were to speak against a god in favor of a mundane, now that is a dangerous action.</p>
<p>Unfortunately, that is where our story begins.</p>
<p>Psyche, or as he preferred to be addressed, Ford, had always been a beautiful boy. Lips cooed praises on his appearance since his birth and those kind words slowly grew suffocating as his beauty became known throughout the land. Instead of crying out their devotions to Aphrodite, they worshiped Ford passionately and left the goddess’ temple bare. Unknowingly, the people that praised Ford took a hand in his demise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Unwanted Presents

**Author's Note:**

> Psyche AU. Ford is Psyche and Stan is Eros. In this AU, Ford is transmasculine, hence, why people address him as she and use the name Psyche, when he prefers male terms and the name Ford. Also, this story takes place in ancient Greece.

It was common knowledge that no mere mortal should ever try to compete against a deity. To challenge a god or goddess would be sentencing themself to death. For gods found themselves better than humans and they had the power to enforce their beliefs on others. If anyone were to speak against a god in favor of a mundane, now that is a dangerous action.

Unfortunately, that is where our story begins.

Psyche, or as he preferred to be addressed, Ford, had always been a beautiful boy. Lips cooed praises on his appearance since his birth and those kind words slowly grew suffocating as his beauty became known throughout the land. Instead of crying out their devotions to Aphrodite, they worshiped Ford passionately and left the goddess’ temple bare. Unknowingly, the people that praised Ford took a hand in his demise.

A shaft of light flashed on Ford’s face and made the boy cringe at the violent end to his sleep. He groaned and rolled over in his bed and pulled his covers over his tired face. “Now, now, Psyche. You have to get up today. Your father wants to find you a suitor,” a maid murmured as she pulled back the sheets.

Ford groaned and pushed his face further into the pillow as he pulled himself into a protective ball. “Why even bother? You and I already know that no one out there will satisfy my needs. Besides, sleep is the best partner I could ever have,” Ford muttered as he cuddled with his pillow.

“Oh, don’t say that. There are a lot of wonderful men and women who adore you. You’re just too picky,” the maid said as she gently positioned Ford to sit up. However, she couldn’t remove the pillow from his clutches.

He glared halfheartedly at the woman, his nearly blind eyes squinting to see her. “I don’t see how wanting people to respect me is ‘too picky’,” Ford remarked.

The maid only smiled, knowing the feeling well, and pried Ford’s hands from the pillow. “I understand your wishes, master, but you need to regard your father’s wishes as well."

Ford’s face twisted in anger and disgust. “He’s the worst one of all. All he does is brag about my so called beauty. I’m sick of it. I am much more than a pretty face. I have made so many scientific breakthroughs and no one has noticed a single one of them! I could change the way we live, Hagne. I could make life so much better for everyone. But no one will ever notice my achievements because they’re so focused on my skin and bone structure!” Ford exclaimed breathlessly. His eye twitched with irritation as his growled under his breath. He hated this life.

“I know this isn’t what you want wanted, but you have to make the best of it. You have a chance to marry and with your beauty you don’t ever have to lift a finger. You will be financially safe and you’ll never be lonely,” Hagne said as she took away the pillow and set it aside. She began peeling off his clothes as Ford lowered his head in despair.

“That sounds so awful. I would rather _die_ than continue to live this way,” he murmured.

The maid forced him to stand up and finished removing his clothing. The boy shivered as cold air and sunbeam mixed together and created a swarm of goosebumps along his skin. “Don’t say such things. This life is wonderful. If you lost it, you’d soon regret it,” Hagne replied.

Ford snickered darkly as he shook his head. “Hagne, if only you understood the difference between my jokes and honest words.”

The maid ignored his words and began to dress him in a soft pink chiton. The public’s favorite color on him. He used to love it when he was younger. Now he despised it. Priceless jewelry adorned his body, all of them gifts from his admirers. A wreath of flowers decorated his hair and perfume encased his body. All of this primping for others, for _strangers_. It was ridiculous. It was insane. No wonder he felt like his soul was crumbling away.

“Would you take a look at yourself. You’re beautiful,” Hagne said with an honest smile as she turned Ford to face a large bowl of water.

Ford’s nose wrinkled at his reflection. “Those compliments have become dry and bland. All I see is skin on a skeleton. Nothing extraordinary or different from the rest. At least not on the outside,” he grumbled.

The maid frowned and opened her mouth to reply when the boy pulled out of her grip and left the room. Once he was free from her sight he glanced over his shoulder and let out a sigh as he opened his hand. A small pair of glasses rested in his hand and he quickly cleaned them off before resting them on his face. He smiled, pleased with himself. He wasn’t normally allowed to wear them (since his family didn’t seem to understand why he invented them and their importance) because it “took away from his face.” Ford found it a rather stupid reason to have him bumbling around all day and running into things. Although, it did put a “damsel in distress” kind of tone into his character which, apparently, the people loved. And whatever the people wanted, they received. Ford wished he had that freedom.

Ford reached the edge of the stairs and sighed. He could hear a loud crowd outside demanding excitedly to come in. They all wanted to see him. They were eager to lay eyes on his beauty. His stomach churned at the thought. Some of the looks they gave him were highly unsettling. Some of the people that came to bathe in his beauty had dark plans formulation in their perverted minds. Granted, sexualizing things was a normal, everyday occurrence and Stanford understood that. It wasn’t like he was new to that kind of situation either. Although, he probably would’ve been a little less experienced with that stuff if his father hadn’t pressured him into some things.

Ford let out a sigh and eased a foot down the first step, and then another and another. He felt himself drain away with each step. A sweet smile grew on his lips as his sad composure faded into a happy glow. Ford felt sick to his stomach. He hated changing himself for others. But it was the only way to keep his father happy. Once he reached the bottom of the stairs a voice greeted him.

“Psyche, my beautiful girl,” a voice murmured as an arm slung around his shoulders.

Ford resisted the urge to cringe as he smiled weakly at his father. “Dad, you know I’m a boy. And you know I prefer to be called Ford,” Ford said as he tried to ease out of his father’s grip.

Filbrick rolled his eyes and only pulled Ford in tighter. “You shouldn’t worry so much about what people call you. You just have to sit and look pretty. The crowd today brought you a lot of wonderful gifts and I want every single one of them to be able to see you,” Filbrick said as he steered his son to a plush kline surrounded by a beautiful array of mesh and silk hanging elegantly from the ceiling.

Ford let out a huff as he was forced to sit on the expensive furniture and frowned at the floor with his hands in his lap. Filbrick stared down at his son and began clicking his tongue. “This will never do. They won’t find you alluring at all.”

Large hands grabbed the back of Ford’s knees in a hard grip and yanked his legs onto the kline. Ford yelped as he lost his balance and fell onto his back. His eyes widened in fear as his father’s fingers hands crept under his chiton and brushed along his thighs. Those big calloused hands pulled his legs apart and Ford felt sick to his stomach. His legs were positioned and the chiton pulled up to expose as much skin as possible without revealing it all. A hand on his waist guided him onto his side and a pillow placed under his arm. Fingers pulled down the neck of his chiton and he swallowed hard on the bile in his throat. He could feel his father’s fingertips tracing over his chest on purpose. Ford whimpered and flinched as fingers combed through his hair, pulling a few flowers loose to decorate his body with. At one point Filbrick’s hand froze with a hard grip on his hair and Ford couldn’t help but panic as he glanced between his father’s legs. But just as he did so, Filbrick’s hold on him loosened and Ford let out a small sigh of relief. More alterations were made to his clothes until he looked less like the child of a respected king and more like the type of women his father visited on lonely nights. Ford shivered violently at the comparison. That was a rather disturbing thought.

He wasn’t given long to think about the new discovery when his glasses were suddenly plucked from his face. Panic raced through Ford’s body and his hand lashed out and took violent hold of his father’s wrist. Filbrick glared down at his son and Ford felt his heart skip a beat, but he pressed on. “Y-you know I need those. If I don’t have them on I can’t see anyone. Then I’ll just be laying here squinting and the people will think I’m glaring at them o-or something…something like that,” Ford stuttered, swallowing nervously.

Filbrick stared at him for a few moments before letting out a small grunt and handing the glasses back. Ford took them in hand and let out a relieved sigh as he put them back on. Fingers took hold of his chin and jerked his head up until Ford was face to face with his father and wishing to disappear all over again.

“Just put a little more effort into it this time. Yesterday you raked in only a fourth of what you usually do. I don’t know what you did, but if I ever catching you doing it again, I will make sure your looks don’t go to waste, got it?” Filbrick growled. Ford trembled in fear, cold sweat dripping down his face as he took in his father’s words. He nodded dumbly and Filbrick grunted again, satisfied, and pulled away. Ford watched with fearful eyes as his father walked away and vanished from his sight. He shakily eased back down into the position his father put him in before and took in deep breaths. Soon he had soothed himself enough to smile as people entered the room.

He did as he had always done. Blush at compliments. Laugh at their jokes. Deny his beauty while placing his body a certain way that reflects the opposite of his words. He listened to their dumb little compliment wars where they threw words with the same meanings, just with different spellings, back and forth. Ford found it to be tedious and dry, but at least the people were broadening their vocabulary.

His father seemed to be enjoying himself as well. With each little gift given to Ford the excited gleam in his eyes only increased. Ford, on the other hand, was getting bored. His whole body was stiff from laying in the same position all day, and as the people droned on about his beauty, the less he listened. That is, until his father spoke.

“Surely you have better gifts for my daughter. She is the most beautiful in existence, correct? Why should a gorgeous woman like herself be brought down to accept such small gifts?” Filbrick announced. The crowd began to murmur shyly amongst themselves. A few of them held their gifts close to their chests or hid them in their cloaks in shame. While Ford didn’t want their gifts, he found his father’s words to be rather cruel.

“Father, stop it!” Ford hissed under his breath. He smiled at the people and leaned forward to lift up a few chins. “Don’t take his words to heart. All of your gifts are wonderful.”

The crowd glanced amongst themselves again and Ford frowned. He opened his mouth to speak again when his father beat him to the punch.

“My daughter is more beautiful than the goddess Aphrodite herself. Why would you give my lovely Psyche the same small gifts you would give to that subpar goddess?” Filbrick asked.

Ford’s eyes widened in horror. His father was going to get them _**both** _ killed with words like that. “Ah, father, I don’t think it is very wise to challenge a goddess. It’s been proved **_many_ _times_** that it is the fastest way to meet your demise,” Ford whispered through his teeth.

Filbrick ignored his words and Ford moved to speak again when a man in the crowd stood up.

“We…we can do better! I have a lot of offerings at home I can bring! I was being selfish before by keeping it to myself and I apologize for my actions, dear Psyche. I will bring everything over immediately!” a man called out as he bowed.

Filbrick’s lips twitched into a smile as Ford was filled with dread. “No…no, you don’t need to do such things. You need those possessions for yourselves,” Ford said as he pushed himself into a sitting position.

“No, he’s right! We haven’t been giving enough!” another voice added. The crowd let out a sound of agreement and their voices began to buzz as Ford’s eyes widened in horror.

This was bad.

His father had the whole town believing that they should praise him more than Aphrodite.

Ford looked up at his father in terror as sweat dripped from his chin. His father only smiled down upon Ford’s worshipers with glee, having no idea what he has just brought onto his son.


	2. Broken Throne

Gentle humming danced through the still air as a waterfall bashed at smooth rocks and a beautiful lake. A large body filled the lake as if it was nothing but a mere puddle for a child to play in. It was the beautiful goddess Aphrodite, bathing in the brilliant sunlight. Her perfect lips widened into a smile as she sighed and eased back into the waterfall. The water beat down on her head, dampening her hair and shielding her eyes with the wet locks. She shivered as the power of the waterfall massaged her shoulders and back and groaned. She lazily stretched back and laid so that her legs from the knees down rested on the mirrored ground and her arms rested on rocks and boulders. She dipped her mouth below the water and blew gentle bubbles as the waterfall continued to crash upon her head.

Heavy wing beats drifted into her ears and the goddess opened her eyes at the familiarity. She slicked her hair back and smirked as she watched her son, Eros, land at her feet. She had always been prideful of her sons, Eros especially. He was a strapping young man and just as mischievous. She watched with a grin as his enormous golden wings folded behind his back. The feathered mass stood twice as tall as the god himself with feathers half as long as his body, but that made them all the more beautiful. Aphrodite smirked and let out a hum as she licked her lips.

“Eros, my lovely boy, what brings you to your dear mother?” she asked.

Her son bowed his head respectfully before straightening himself back up. “Aphrodite, I bring news from eart-.”

“Oh Eros, please do fix your appearance before speaking. You look ghastly. If another god or goddess were to see you in this state, they would think you’ve been poisoned and were dying,” Aphrodite said with a hard chuckle.

An uncomfortable look crossed the god of love’s face and he avoided his mother’s gaze as he did as she asked. He combed his fingers through his hair and slicked back his curly brown locks and adjusted his toga into its rightful place and shook the loose feathers from his wings. Aphrodite smiled at her son and pushed herself forward, emerging from the waterfall. Eros’s eyes widened and he looked away as his mother’s naked form rose above the lake.

Water washed off of her perfect skin as aquatic life flopped at the sudden surge of land and lack of water. Aphrodite smirked at her son’s reaction and pulled her legs into the lake and kneeled as she placed her hand between her legs and aimed her chest suggestively at her son. “Why do you always look away from my body, Eros? Do you not appreciate my beauty?” the goddess asked with a pout.

Eros refused to raise his head as he replied. “Even though I am a god, I am still unfit to look upon such exquisite and immeasurable loveliness you possess,” he replied.

Aphrodite grinned widely and laughed. “That silver tongue of yours may be able to trick the other gods and goddesses, but I know when you are lying, dear Eros. Also, I know when you are dodging a question. But now is not the time for that discussion. Tell me,” Aphrodite moved to lay on her stomach, her legs kicking the air and her elbows resting on the mirror floor and hand cradling her head as she smiled, “what news have you brought me?”

Eros’ brown eyes jumped from the floor to his mother’s face. His strong wings twitched behind his back nervously. He knew his mother wasn’t going to take this news very well. He honestly wished he had sent someone else to deliver the message. He tended to avoid his mother’s wrath for good reason. Eros sighed and straightened his back as he faced her head on with his barrel chest pushing out with fake bravado.

“It’s about your temple,” he stated.

A twinkle flashed in her eyes. “Ah, my temple. How many gifts have the humans left for me this time? Are they shiny?” she purred in excitement at the thought of new objects.

Eros adjusted his feet on the mirror floor. “There’s nothing inside. The temple is empty.”

His mother’s reaction was almost immediate. Her image violently glitched as her smile slipped away and her eyes burned gold. She blinked and her eyes returned to normal as she smiled again. “I’m sorry. I must have misheard you. Did you say that my temple was **_empty_**?”

Eros gulped and nodded as he clenched his fists to keep himself calm. “Completely empty. No one had been there for what seems like a few days. Maybe even a week or so,” he reported honestly.

Aphrodite’s image glitched once again. Once. Twice. And then her whole form had been snagged by his words and yanked in opposite directions. Her eyes flashed gold and contained a long vertical black mark as pupils as the irises melted away. Her image continued to sway and malfunction to expose another form below.

“My temple…is **_EMPTY_**?!” Aphrodite screamed, her beautiful image scattered and revealed a red hot pyramid inside, its single glowing eye piercing through Eros with full intent to kill burning in the pupil. Eros squared his shoulders and resisted the urge to react at her form.

“Yes. Empty. Bare. Vacant. Nothing inside. Do you need some more synonyms or do you think you got it now?” Eros snapped. He immediately wanted to swallow his tongue.

Aphrodite’s geometric form hovered completely still as her single eye bored into her son’s skull. A laugh echoed through the room as the mirrored floor rattled beneath the winged god’s feet, leaving the boy nervous and unsure. Aphrodite’s form twisted and split in three and uncovered sharp and clustered fangs and one too many tongues and arms. An arm raised high in the air with her hand forming a tight fist and casting a shadow over the boy’s form. Eros forced his eyes closed and stood tall as he awaited his mother’s next move.

Instead of feeling the crushing weight of his mother’s fist striking him down, he felt the soft tip of a giant finger tilt his chin upwards and placing perfectly manicured nail at his throat. “Oh Eros, why would they do such a terrible thing to me? I’m so beautiful and yet they treat me like garbage. Do you have any idea why they would treat me this way?” Aphrodite asked, her body back to normal as the giant goddess rested in the lake. Eros wasn’t sure which form he rather preferred.

He eased himself out of his mother’s grip and fixed the lock that fell in front of his face. “Apparently they have decided to worship a human girl instead. A princess named Psyche,” he reported.

Aphrodite raised a brow at the news as her face became serious. “They’re worshiping a human? Why?”

“From what I heard, they say that this human is more beautiful than you and thus deserves all of your offerings,” Eros replied with a dry detachment.

He expected his mother to get angry once again but her eyes only narrowed as she frowned. “More beautiful than me? Preposterous! It’s impossible to surpass a god or goddess!” she exclaimed tartly.

“I’m only relaying what I’ve heard,” Eros said with a shrug.

Aphrodite growled under her breathe and splashed back in the lake and pushed her head back under the waterfall as she began to chew on her thumbnail. “That hag. Thinking that she can steal my loyal subjects like that. Unbelievable! Going up against a goddess- ** _me_ ** nonetheless-absolutely idiotic.”

“I would like to point out that the _**people** _ made this claim. The princess never said that she was, in any way, better than you,” Eros offered.

Aphrodite snorted and crossed her legs. “Please, if she allows the people to give her gifts she obviously agrees with their opinion. However, I have ways to prove her wrong.” A cruel grin slithered across Aphrodite’s lips and the god shivered as his skin broke out into a cold sweat. She licked her lips and eased down into the lake as she began to relax in confidence once again.

“Eros, would you be a dear and do something for me?” she asked as she batted her eyelashes at the god.

“I don’t see how I could say no,” Eros replied, a small part of his voice begging for her to give him a way out.

The goddess’ grin widened and she slicked her hair back again and began massaging her scalp. “Use one of your arrows and make her fall in love with a hellish man. Someone cruel that will take away her beauty and defile her. I want her to marry a _**monster**_ , understand?”

Eros’ heart clenched tightly in his chest. His stomach twisted at her words and he took a wary step back. “I…I have done some shameful things in my life mother, and I regret every single one but…I can’t force this girl into a marriage like that. It’s wrong. She’s done nothing to you. If you want to punish someone, punish the people that are worshiping her. I will not abuse my power to defend your stupid ego-.”

A hand landed hard on his cheek and the echo from the force echoed through the room, the mirrored floor below his feet cracking from the shock waves. His vision blurred at the pain as his heartbeat filled his ears. His eyes slowly lowered to his mother whom stood before him. She manipulated her size to that of a human’s and stood a few inches below his height, but she still appeared like a hungry hydra. Her naked body pressed against his as her eyes glowed gold and long black pupils drilled into his head. “You will do as I say, Eros. Get rid of that girl. Or else,” she said softly. Eros flinched and hissed as a handful of feathers were ripped from his wings and sank to the cracked floor. Aphrodite smiled and pulled away as she shook feathers from her wet hand and patted her son’s wounded cheek.

“Good boy. Now leave me. I wish to finish bathing alone,” the goddess ordered as she tossed her wet hair and slipped back into the lake.

Eros glared hard at his mother’s back in fear as he rested a trembling hand over his heart. He could survive and break Zeus’ thunderbolts, but he would never be able to tell his mother no. Even if it risked his reputation as the love god. He thought of the poor girl whom would lose everything due to his mother’s wishes and his eyes saddened. A god of love who paired innocent women with monstrous men.

What kind of god was he really?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I was a little too subtle, Bill is Aphrodite.


	3. Visiting News

It had been only a day since his father’s terrible proclamation of his superiority over a goddess, and Ford was living on edge to say in the least. He was waiting for something terrible to happen. With every shady visitor and unidentifiable squeak he grew more and more tense as he awaited for the inevitable. His presents had tripled in value which was more than enough evidence to prove that Aphrodite’s temple had been abandoned. He had tried to convince the people to return their gifts to the goddess, but no one heeded his words when Filbrick got involved. Warning the people that “a woman’s mind deteriorates when flustered and can’t grasp the gravity of their loving offerings”.

Ford had never wanted to punch his father so badly before. He had struck three major nerves: first, by calling him a woman; second, questioning his intellectual abilities; and thirdly, being a misogynistic asshole. However, Ford did as he had always done before. He held his lips in a large smile and presented himself flawlessly for the people as he slowly died on the inside.

But he had his breaking points.

A man pulled Ford’s hand into his own and murmured a compliment in close range to the prince’s face. Ford chuckled and leaned away to distance themselves. Another person, a woman, took hold of his second hand and praised his evenly numbered fingers, causing Ford to blush and try to pull his hands away. That was a bit of a sensitive spot. Then he felt hands on his knees. Hands that traveled under his chiton and up his thighs. Ford clenched his eyes shut and squeezed his legs together tightly.

“Please stop,” Ford whimpered pathetically.

The hands continued to travel upwards, thumbs stroking his inner thighs and threatening to reach higher.

“Do you really want that? Don’t you want to feel like a goddess for just a few minutes?” the man purred before suddenly crying out.

The man’s arm was yanked back into an odd position, bones creaking under the intense pressure of a steady hand. A handsome young man smiled brightly at the attacker and slowly increased the pressure he placed on their arm. “I’m pretty sure he told you to stop. You should know when someone tells you to stop, you stop,” the dirty blonde said, his smile sharpening as his eyes flashed a deadly cold blue.

The attacker growled apologies under his breath and jerked himself free, vanishing the instant he was out of the blonde’s grip. The blonde snorted and rolled his now soft blue eyes as he turned back to the prince and smiled at Ford’s gaping mouth.

“Heh, how’re you doing, stargazer?” the man said as he patted Ford’s head.

Ford couldn’t believe it. His hands trembled as tears gathered in his eyes, making the blonde frown in concern. “Fi-Fiddleford? Is that really you?”

The man blinked and then smiled down at the brunette. He moved to kneel before Ford and took one of Ford’s hands into his own and gently kissed his knuckles. “Yes, my darling prince, it’s me,” he murmured against Ford’s skin.

He thought he would never hear those words again. Ford pulled his hand free and tackled Fiddleford with a tight hug. The blonde grunted and stumbled backwards at the rough contact but chuckled nonetheless and hugged the brunette lovingly.

“I’ve missed you so much, Fiddleford,” Ford murmured as he buried his face deep in the blonde’s neck.

Fiddleford smiled and hugged the brunette tighter as he stroked Ford’s back, “It’s been a while.”

Fiddleford was Ford’s only friend in life. The blonde was the only one who dared to get close to him. They were little (at least Ford was little at seven, Fiddleford at 12) and unlike other children, they played with science instead of toys. While Ford’s father pressured him into being the perfect woman for a man, Fiddleford encouraged him to become a man of science. And when Ford demanded to be addressed as a boy…Fiddleford never questioned it. The only person in this world who loved and accepted Ford for whom he was, was Fiddleford. It was simple to say that Ford fell for him _**hard**_.

Ford pulled back and gave him a faux-angry look. “A while? I haven’t seen you since I was fifteen! I’m almost eighteen now, you made me wait too long to see you,” Ford snorted as he pulled free from his arms. Fiddleford chuckled at the brunette’s reaction and slung his arm over his shoulders.

“If I could have returned sooner, I would have. A lot of things have changed since I last saw you,” he replied.

“As long as you’re still the Fiddleford I know, then I don’t care what’s changed,” Ford said with a shy smile and light blush. He knew he didn’t hide his crush on Fiddleford very well so he had long since given up on hiding it. Fiddleford had never appeared bothered by his affections. He always smiled and chuckled as he raised a hand and patted Ford’s head affectionately. But instead of receiving a loving touch, Fiddleford seemed to pull away ever so slightly as he ducked his head.

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that, darling,” Fiddleford murmured under his breath.

Ford gave the blonde a confused look and opened his mouth to ask what he meant when a sultry voice interrupted him.

“Psyche! My dear baby sister, how are you?” a shapely and beautiful woman asked as she approached the two.

Ford’s eyes widened and his jaw came unhinged. “C-Carla? What are you doing here?” he floundered.

His sister grinned and reached out to roughly tousle Ford’s hair and then looped her arm with Fiddleford’s and pulled the blonde away. “I came to see you, obviously. Daddy wanted us to visit and we couldn’t say no. But are you trying to steal my husband away from me, Psyche? That’s so rude. I came all this way to visit my sister and she tries to steal my new husband,” Carla tsked in a harmfully teasing manner.

Ford’s heart stuttered in his chest. He blinked dumbly at his sister as his thoughts struggled to organize. “Wait…did you say… _husband_?”

Carla giggled and pulled Fiddleford in closer, the blonde unwillingly opening his arms to pull Carla into a loving embrace. “You heard me right. Fiddleford is my husband. We just got married a few months ago. We make quite a pair, don’t you think?”

Ford felt the ground slowly crumble below him as he stared hard at Fiddleford. The man wouldn’t even look him in the eyes. Ford swallowed dryly and ducked his head as he tried to gather his thoughts. He had never felt so…so _betrayed_ in his entire life. He had _always_ loved Fiddleford and he had always made those feelings known. Fiddleford had even returned those feelings once. It was a short moment in Ford’s life, but something he could never forget. It was the one sliver of hope he clung to all these years. Fiddleford was his only hope to be viewed as a scientist, as a man, hell, as a person in general. Fiddleford was his only shot at a true and happy life, but now Fiddleford was married to someone else. Fiddleford was married to his _sister_ , and there was nothing he could do.

Fiddleford watched Ford’s depressed and trembling form as his stomach twisted with regret and guilt. “Ford, are you-.”

“Congratulations.”

Fiddleford blinked in surprise as Carla raised a brow. Ford raised his head and smiled brightly at the couple, radiating nothing but happiness and joy.

“I’m happy for both of you. I’m glad you could find each other,” Ford said.

A hurt and bewildered look crossed over Fiddleford’s face as Carla smirked mischievously. “Why thank you, Psyche. I’m sure you’ll find a man as great as mine someday soon,” Carla said sweetly, a sour taste to her words.

Ford smiled, unknowing of the malice in his sister’s words, and looked at Fiddleford with sad eyes. Fiddleford stared back as his blue eyes silently screamed with the need to explain himself, but Ford knew enough. “I doubt I will, Carla. Fiddleford is one in a million. Hold onto him tight. He’s not someone you can risk losing,” Ford said with a small, tainted smile.

Carla hummed in dismissive agreement as Fiddleford lowered his eyes and watched the still floor. “Shermie should be here soon. He was finally able to escape his dreadful wife and children. Those kids are such monsters, honestly. I don’t know why Shermie puts up with it,” Carla said.

“He loves them, Carla,” Ford said with a strained chuckle.

“That’s a whole different story from what he’s told me but that’s not important. How have you been, Psyche? Still haven’t found the perfect husband?”

Fiddleford glanced up at Ford but the brunette ignored his presence. “There are few that ever reach my expectations. It makes it difficult to find the right man,” Ford said with a shrug.

Carla snickered and grinned. “More like you’re too picky. Just find someone rich or someone incredibly handsome. You have enough traffic running through here on the daily, it seems. It shouldn’t be that hard to find someone suitable for you,” Carla remarked.

“Those people only come here for my looks. I want someone who loves me for who I am, Carla. These people only see me as another item of decoration. I don’t want to be an ornament,” Ford said indignantly.

Fiddleford smiled lightly at his words while Carla rolled her eyes. “That’s what I’m talking about. Complicated and picky. You don’t have the time to be searching for the perfect man, Psyche. If you don’t choose a husband for yourself soon, daddy will pick one for you,” Carla remarked.

A shiver rushed down Ford’s spine at her words. He could only imagine the type of person his father would choose for him. “I won’t let it come to that. I can convince him to give me time,” he replied.

Carla cackled at Ford’s words and wiped fake tears from her eyes. “Oh that’s rich. You act like daddy actually gives a shit about us. I’m going to have to step away and catch my breath and find Shermie. That’s too hilarious. Shermie would love it,” Carla snickered as she removed herself from Fiddleford and slithered away, laughing at her brother.

Fiddleford and Ford stood in absolute silence as Ford watched while servants begin to usher people out the door and emptied their large castle. It was almost time for dinner. Fiddleford studied the prince’s face and cast a glance at the servants, urging with his eyes for them to leave. Each servant bowed their heads and slipped out of the room, leaving the two alone.

“Ford…I wanted to-.”

“Do you love her?” Ford asked.

Fiddleford blinked at the strength in the prince’s voice. He expected tears and anger not the calm and collected man that stood before him.

“I…I do. But I love yo-.”

“Don’t.”

Ford’s firm word echoed through the large room and Fiddleford blinked again, taken by surprise at his tone. Ford sighed and plopped down on his kline and ran his fingers through his hair.

“Look, Fids, whatever feelings you may have for me or _think_ you have for me…you have to get rid of them. You’re married now. Married to my sister, no less. I want her to be happy and she can’t have that if you love someone else. So, please, just view me as a friend from now on. See me as a brother, okay?” Ford said as he massaged his temples.

Fiddleford watched him for a few moments before quietly sitting down next to the prince. Both of them stared at the floor in silence. Neither knowing what to do.

“But where does that leave you?” Fiddleford asked.

Ford smirked and snickered dryly. “Where it always does. Lounging around on furniture as eyes watch my body. My father will find someone for me, eventually. Probably someone I’ll despise, but it will make him happy,” Ford said as he examined his hands.

Fiddleford watched the prince play with his own fingers and sighed. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. I found Carla in a town I was conducting business in and she was penniless and starving. She looked so pitiful and lonely, it was the first time I ever felt any sort of emotion towards her besides pure annoyance. I took her in and nursed her back to health, but during that time she…she showed who she really was. It didn’t take long for me to fall in love. I’m easily emotionally influenced like that, but…I don’t know. I fell for her hard. I’m not sure even why.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Fiddleford. It’s not like we were romantically involved in the first place,” Ford said as he rubbed his bare shoulder.

“Yes I do.”

A warm hand rested on top of his and Ford looked up at his friend in surprise. Fiddleford leaned in close as his other hand took hold of Ford’s chin and tilted his face up. Ford’s heart lurched and he screwed his eyes shut as Fiddleford kissed him. The blonde’s lips were as soft and skilled as he remembered. Ford whined pathetically as Fiddleford’s fingers slid along his jaw and played with the ends of his short curly hair, tugging on the thick locks. Ford moved his hands to rest on Fiddleford’s chest and tried to push him away but Fiddleford wouldn’t budge. A hand appeared on the small of Ford’s back and pulled him closer as Fiddleford poured more passion into their kiss. Then all too quickly the kiss ended and their lips parted. Fiddleford panted lightly and he pressed his forehead against the brunette’s as tears appeared on Ford’s lashes.

“I love you, Ford. As a friend, a brother, and a lover. I’m…I’m so sorry for all of this,” Fiddleford murmured honestly.

Ford swallowed and slowly pulled himself free from Fiddleford’s grasp. He could still feel Fiddleford’s lips pressed against his own. His hands on his body. Fiddleford’s sweat on his brow. He shouldn’t be feeling it at all. They shouldn’t even be in a room alone. Ford shouldn’t be letting his sister’s husband touch him this way. He had to end this.

“Fiddleford…I think it would be best if…if you didn’t touch or speak to me. I think…I think I’m too much of a temptation for you right now. You should be with your wife. Carla doesn’t like to be alone for very long. You should go to her,” Ford said as he gripped the wood frame of the kline in a hard grip.

Fiddleford blinked in disbelief and reached out for the brunette. “But Ford I-.”

The blonde’s fingers brushed Ford’s skin and the boy bristled as he lifted his head to glare at his friend with fire in his eyes.

“Don’t touch me!” he screeched as he jumped up from the kline.

Fiddleford jolted at the brunette’s voice and stared at him, appalled at his words. Ford was a mess by now. Tears burned in his eyes and his appearance disheveled. Ford struggled to tame his breathing and was soon able to collect himself and ran his hand through his hair.

“My sister is waiting for you. Please, just go to her. Just go,” Ford said weakly.

Fiddleford lowered his head and avoided the other man’s eyes. He slowly rose to his feet and took a few steps forward until he stood before Ford. Fiddleford raised his eyes and stared at his friend. The prince gave him an unforgiving gaze, his dark brown eyes full of determination and pain. The blonde chuckled and smiled sadly as he reached up to scratch the back of his head and rub his neck.

“I never expected my science partner to be so beautiful and I never expected to fall in love with him. It’s a shame that I have to say goodbye,” Fiddleford chuckled sadly.

Ford said nothing. Fiddleford smiled and brushed by as he walked past the brunette and quietly left the room.

Once the man was gone Ford slowly eased himself back down onto the kline before losing his balance and slipping onto his hands and knees as tears fell down his cheeks. The only person in the world who treated him like a human…the only person who treated him like an equal…the person he loved, was married. Ford let out a pained scream and slammed his fist down hard on the floor repeatedly until his hand was bruised and throbbing.

He never thought he could feel so empty inside.


	4. The Heavy Foot of a Prince

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for:
> 
> Physical/mental abuse  
> Hinting of sexual abuse (rape/noncon: I did not write about that scene, it just heavily hints and leads you toward obvious conclusions as to what Character A will do to Character B. That sort of thing. If you don't want to risk reading this chapter due to the warnings but still want to know what happens in this chapter, you can contact me and I will be willing to sum it up for you.)
> 
> It's stuff that you've been warned about before but it's just really strong in this chapter.
> 
> (Also, just so you guys know, this fic is going to be continuously dark. So themes of abuse of every kind will be very frequent. However, Filbrick Pines will not be in the story after chapter six, so the sexual abuse should go away after that.)

Ford’s head hung low as the cold moonlight hardened his cold skin. The hairs on his arms and neck stood at full attention as every inch of his body became ice. His dead eyes stared at his bandaged hand. The skin was red and swollen with black bruises marking the side of his hand from where he had struck the floor. He stretched out his six fingers and winced at the pain and relaxed his hand.

“You did quite a number on your hand. Your father isn’t going to like that,” Hagne tsked as she rifled through Ford’s clothes.

The prince scowled and clenched his fist and ground his teeth through the pain. “I don’t care about what my father does and doesn’t like,” Ford growled.

“Oh, you have got to watch what you say. You can get into a lot of trouble. Now come over here so I can dress you for dinner,” Hagne said by patting her thighs.

Ford’s eye twitched. Even a maid could order him around like a dog. Not anymore. “No. I will be dressing myself tonight, Hagne,” Ford replied.

The maid scowled and placed her hands on her hips as she glared at the prince. “No, **_I_ ** will be dressing you. I will not allow you to show up before the king looking like a…like a **_man_**. You will dress like the lady you are. Now get up and come here so I can-.”

Hagne was cut short as she was thrown roughly against the wall with a hand squeezing her mouth shut and another pinning her wrist above her head.

“I said I would dress **_myself_**!” Ford snarled.

Hagne let out a squeak and pressed herself further against the wall as Ford glared at her with fire in his eyes.

“I will not let my life be ruled by anyone but me from now on. My life is my own! So when I tell you that I will dress myself, I will dress myself! Understand?” Ford hissed.

Hagne nodded her head vigorously as tears gathered in her eyes. Ford wanted to feel guilty, but he couldn’t let himself be treated like this any longer.

“I no longer desire your services. After dinner, you may ask my father where you will be needed to work, because you are no longer needed here. As for now, go help in the kitchen. This is an order from your prince, understood?” he demanded.

Hagne nodded again, desperate to get away. Ford’s eyes narrowed and searched her face before releasing her. The moment his hands left her person she rushed out of the room, sobs escaping her frightened throat along the way. Once the sounds of her wines disappeared Ford looked down at his hands. Giving orders, scaring women and making them cry…was this what it meant to be a man?

Ford clenched his fists and glared through his lashes at the wall. He couldn’t let trivial things like that stop him now. He needed to become his own person. His own man. He needed to take control of his life. Ford’s eyes wandered to the white himation laying on his bed and swallowed dryly.

Taking control of his life is exactly what he was going to do.

It was hours later that dinner was called and Ford swallowed the nervous lump in his throat as he gave himself a once over in the reflective water. Determination filled his eyes and he nodded at himself and rolled his tense shoulders as he headed for the dining hall. Servants stared at him with wide eyes as he past by but he only held his head higher. He couldn’t back down now. The dull buzz of his family speaking to one another reached his ears and his steps slowed as his courage dwindled. He sighed and shook his head as he gathered every ounce of bravery he had and entered the room.

His family’s reaction was immediate. One by one they raised their eyes to Ford and their eyes widened as they sat paralyzed and speechless. Shermie spotted him first. Then diagonally across the table Carla looked up from her reflection in her water. Fiddleford sat beside her, his eyes staring at his full plate before noticing his wife’s reaction and followed her gaze. The last one to look up was Filbrick. But his gaze was the most piercing of them all. Ford felt the urge to cover himself from his father’s eyes but ignored the feeling and stared his father down.

Ford’s attire was nothing special. His short hair fell in messy curls and his glasses rested over his eyes. He was dressed in an expensive white himation with a dyed red trim with tasteful sandals on his feet. It was the way he was fashioned that threw his family for a loop. He had placed the himation in a way a man would wear one. His whole body was covered save for one shoulder and his chest were revealed. For a man with a male body, this would be no problem. But since Ford was a man in a female’s body, the situation was entirely different. His small breasts hung perkily in plain sight to his whole family.

Carla was the first to blink before she let out a snort and began laughing. “Damn, Psyche, that is **_way_ ** more than I ever wanted to see of you,” Carla cackled.

Shermie was next to break as he began laughing and covered his eyes with his hand. “Even while dressing like _**that** _ she can’t get a husband?”

Carla and Shermie fell into a loud fit of laughter as Ford scowled at the two. His gaze was taken away from them when he noticed Fiddleford staring openly at the familiar sight of Ford’s breasts, making the prince blush and refuse to meet his gaze. Leaving only his father to look at.

Filbrick looked like he might explode. A vein throbbed on his temple as he glared at his son and ground his teeth.

“Psyche, what is the meaning of this?” he asked through his teeth.

Ford gulped and held his head up higher as he met his father’s eyes. “My name isn’t Psyche, father. It’s Ford. I am a man. And as a man, I can dress like this.”

His siblings laughter died out at his reply as the rage in his father’s eyes only grew fiercer.

“Did Hagne put you up to this?”

“No. This was all my doing. I am a prince, after all. I should be able to do as I wish. Which reminds me,” Ford said as he took a step forward to stand at the end of the table, “I will no longer allow the people of this city to watch and praise me and give me gifts. I will not lay around all day and succumb to the wishes of others nor will I permit others to continue to address me as a female and call me by the name Psyche. I will follow my dreams and become a man of science.”

The room was deathly quiet. His siblings refused to look up from their plates and Fiddleford’s gaze moved up to Ford’s face as he stared at him in shock and fear. Filbrick was brimming with anger. His fists were clenched tightly and trembling with rage as he glared at his son.

“What did you just say to me? You think you can defy me? You think you have enough power to walk in here and tell me how things are going to be under my own house? What kind of disrespectful little **_cunt_ ** are you?” Filbrick hissed. Carla visibly flinched at his words as her fingers dug deep into her palms.

Ford scowled as he ground his teeth. “Don’t you call me that word.”

“I can call you whatever I want! You’re my daughter and I have full say over anything and everything you do!” Filbrick shouted as he stood from his seat, his chair falling back and slamming into the floor with a loud bang.

“No you don’t! This is my life! Not yours! I’m the only person in the universe that has **_any_ ** say on who I am or what I do or who I will be! I’m the master of my own body. I am **_king_ ** of my own flesh,” Ford snapped.

“Stop disobeying me and go change,” Filbrick growled.

“No. I am done taking your orders,” Ford said firmly as he approached his father by slowly walking around the table as his courage swelled and heart raced, “I will not be your toy anymore. I won’t be **_anyone’s_ ** toy anymore! I’m not going to sit still and look pretty for everyone who’s looking for something to fuck or masturbate to. I am more than my skin and bone structure. I have a brilliant mind and I can create so many wonderful things with my knowledge. I could change life as we know it. I have the power to change the _world_. I can be someone people remember for years to come. I can be a scientist.”

Ford smiled at his father softly in a convincing manner, but it only made his father’s scowl worse.

“You won’t _be_ anything. You’re a stupid girl that got a lot of stupid ideas put in her head. You can’t be a scientist. You can’t be a man. And you _**will** _ obey me,” Filbrick snarled, ending each sentence by striking the table with his fist.

“Psyche, let it _go_ ,” Shermie murmured lowly.

Ford stared at his brother before turning to look at Carla. Her eyes were hard and cold and his face set in a mean frown as she slowly shook her head from side to side. Ford clenched his jaw as his temper flared. Fine. If no one was going to help him, he would just have to do this by himself. Ford turned back to his father and glared at him as he clenched his fists, seething with anger.

“No! I won’t obey you any longer! I’m not a girl, I’m a man! My name isn’t Psyche, it’s Ford! I will not let myself be used any longer! No more visitors. No more gifts. No more comparing me to a god! I am **_not_ ** going to spend the rest of my life as a pretty thing for people to look at and touch! I’m not an object for you people!” Ford began to smile broadly. He felt exhilarated. He felt **_powerful_**. He was taking his own life into his own hands. He was putting his father in his place. He never dreamed that it could feel so good. “You can’t tell me what to do anymore father. No one can. I am my own person. I won’t let you ruin my life anymore. You can’t tell me who I am. You have no control over me. I-!”

A heavy hand smacked his face with a hard _clap_ , sending his glasses flying as his head jerked to the side and strained his neck. Ford’s eyes widened as excruciatingly hot pain bubble along his skin as he stared at his siblings in horror. Shermie cringed at the sound of Filbrick striking his brother but he merely turned his head away and avoided meeting Ford’s gaze. Carla looked almost unaffected but her eyes were clenched tightly shut and her body jolted at the sound of the slap. Fiddleford merely sat with his mouth agape and eyes bulging as he stared like a deer caught in headlights.

Large hands roughly grabbed at Ford’s body, restraining his arms behind his back as the other yanked harshly on his hair and slammed him down onto the table. Ford screamed as overly hot food burned the bare skin on his chest, face, neck, and breasts. He sobbed and thrashed under his father’s grip, begging for Filbrick to stop, but his father only pinned him down harder.

“Father! F-father stop! It’s burning me! Dad stop! Stop **_please_**! Daddy stop it hurts!” Ford’s mouth filled with an acidic and sour taste at his own words. He was using terms his father loved to hear. He was crying out for mercy for his own life. He had lost control so quickly.

Filbrick leaned over Ford’s form until his lips pressed against the prince’s ear and his chest rested on Ford’s back. The king adjusted his hips in such a way that allowed him to press right against his son’s backside. Ford’s eyes widened as tears ran down his cheeks, washing bits of food away from his face. His father was hard. He was enjoying this.

“Please. Please no,” Ford whimpered.

“You will leave and go straight to my room and sit on the bed and wait for me like a good girl. Understand?” Filbrick growled in his ear.

The pressure on Ford’s skull increased and Ford nodded with a whine. Filbrick grinned and placed a sour kiss on Ford’s cheek. “Good girl. And clean yourself up a bit before you sit on my bed. I don’t want you making a mess of it. Yet.”

Filbrick pulled away as all hope drained from Ford’s body and he was filled with dread. He wasn’t going to be able to talk him out if it this time. He fucked up big time. Ford slowly pushed himself up on shaking arms and raised his crying eyes to take a look at his family. Shermie was playing with his food and still avoided his gaze. Carla still had her eyes screwed shut but her fingers were clawing at her thighs and she was shaking. Most likely remembering when she was in Ford’s place. Fiddleford was so stunned he sat frozen in place, unable to console his wife as he stared openly at Ford.

Ford lowered his eyes back down to the floor and slowly stepped away from the table and quietly left the room, leaving a trail of food behind him. On his way to his father’s room he spotted Hagne sweeping the floors who dropped her broom upon seeing the prince crying with a beaten face and covered in food. Tears streamed down his cheeks as his chest heaved.

“H-Hagne…is this what it’s like to be a woman?” he croaked weakly. A sympathetic look crossed over Hagne’s face as she gently drew Ford close and hugged him softly. “Come with me. I’ll help clean you up, if that’s what you want, my prin-…my prince,” Hagne said with a delicate smile, the masculine term foreign on her tongue.

Ford began to sob and clung to the maid as he cried apologies that the maid easily dismissed.


	5. Forseen Fate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for:
> 
> Implied Rape/Noncon

Filbrick growled to himself as he stretched out his stiff limbs. He sat up in bed and placed pressure on his sore lower back as he glanced over at his son. Ford had pulled himself into a tight ball and laid sleeping as far away from Filbrick as possible on the bed. Filbrick grinned as he snickered like a hissing snake and pulled the sheets away from his son’s body. Ford groaned in his sleep and shrank even more at the feel of cold air. Filbrick smirked at the splashes of white on his son’s stomach and chest, licking his lips at the dried bit by Ford’s lips. He brushed his hands over Ford’s bare thighs and took pleasure in seeing Ford fitfully squirm in his sleep. He had almost as much fight in him asleep as he did when he was awake. Filbrick would have to remember to take advantage of that sometime.

But for now, he had something important to do.

Filbrick climbed out of bed and quickly and quietly dressed and dawned on an old cloak when he was finished. He took one last look at his sleeping son and vanished from the room and into the dark morning.

It was that small part of the day where everything was asleep and peaceful. Humans and animals alike resting with their eyes closed and unaware of the world around them. This was the time of day to speak with beings more powerful than humans.

“Where is that damn woman,” Filbrick growled under his breath. He searched the dark crevices of his city and grew more and more frustrated. She was supposed to be here. She _had_ to be here.

“Blind as always, I see,” a smokey voice spoke.

Filbrick stilled and slowly turned to see a woman dressed in rags huddled against a wall with her head bowed low. The king narrowed his eyes and slowly approached the the homeless woman. “You look worse than when I last saw you. Obviously losing me meant a lot more to your world than you thought,” Filbrick said as he lightly smirked down at the woman.

“You forget that I’m not attached to this world like you are. I made myself appear this way to speak to more people. You know full well how speechless my true form leaves humans,” the woman replied as she raised her worn face but left her eyes closed.

Filbrick had nothing to say in return but he could not disagree. Her true form was stunning. “Ramona, I need you to see something for me.”

“And what makes you so sure that I would do anything for you?” the woman replied.

Filbrick cracked a smug grin. “Still sore after our break up?”

“No. I’ve had many men and women and creatures far better than you ever were in relationships and in bed. I’m wondering why you would have the guts to ask me of anything after the way you have treated my daughter,” the woman said calmly.

“I had no hand in ruining Carla’s life. She brought it onto herself.”

“She did not ask you to rape and beat her!” the woman snarled, her eyes opening to flash glowing eyes with moving waves of spiritual blues, no seclara to be seen.

Filbrick popped his jaw and stared down at the woman with no emotion on his face. “She was mouthy like you. I had to fix that.”

A lightning quick fist struck his jaw and knocked Filbrick hard on his ass as the woman rose above him. Her rags fell away to reveal red and gold silk clothing and her withered face turned young and beautiful. Her dark brown hair was tied into a neat bun and her eyes shined menacingly as her hooked nose flared in rage.

“If it wasn’t a matter of appearance I would kill you where you stand, Filbrick. You’ve had it comin’ for a long time. And it would be my pleasure to help speed along your demise,” the woman said with a large smile as the blue in her eyes glowed brighter and the colors whipped and shifted in excitement.

Filbrick smirked as he wiped blood from his lips and climbed to his feet. “But you’re not allowed to meddle with fate, only share it. And if I remember correctly, when we were together you told me that I wasn’t going to die until I reached my eighties.”

Ramona only grinned more at his words. “Only forty years, Filbrick. I’m joyfully counting down,” she replied.

Filbrick scowled and his eyes narrowed as he quickly grew bored of their harsh banter.

“I need you to look into something for me,” the king said.

Ramona sighed and leaned against the building’s wall, “So I’ve heard. What do you want me to see?”

“My youngest. She’s troublesome. She pretends to be a man. Talks about wanting to be a scientist. Defies me at every turn. Refuses to choose someone to marry-.”

“Sounds like my kind of person,” Ramona said with a grin.

“I need to find out whom she marries and how to find her husband,” Filbrick said.

“Why are you so concerned about her? Isn’t she only seventeen?”

“It looks bad on me to have my youngest unmarried. We’ve been trying for years to find her someone and she still hasn’t chosen anyone. There are rumors spreading around about her. And those rumors lead to me. A king can’t have his subjects talking about him in whispered voices,” Filbrick replied.

Ramona shook her head as she closed her eyes. “You’re a twisted man. But, sadly, I can’t refuse to serve you,” Ramona lazily held out a single hand towards the king, “Let’s get this over with.”

Filbrick stared at her hand warily before reaching out and placing his fingers in her palm. The reaction was almost immediate. Their bodies jolted in unison as the world around them crumbled away to reveal a sunny blue sky and the rocky edge of a steep mountain. Filbrick let out a violent cry as a hideous monster hovered over the sharp tip of the mountain, snarling and drooling down on Ford whom stood at the edge, facing the monster without a single emotion on his face and dressed in beautiful wedding attire. Green saliva dripped onto Ford’s shoulders and soaked his hair and face as the monster grinned and vanished into the wide, cloudy depths below. Ford watched the monster disappear into the thick black clouds and stood still for a few more seconds and then stepped off the cliff, his body yanked into the stormy clouds by a vicious gust of wind.

“NO!”

Filbrick’s scream broke the vision as he tore his hand away from Ramona and glared at her animalistically.

“What the hell was that? Are you playing tricks on me, oracle?” Filbrick snarled.

Ramona began to laugh as her eyes shined brightly. “That is a gift from Aphrodite You angered the goddess of beauty when you claimed your youngest to be more beautiful than her. When she saw that her temple was empty because what you said. How will your subjects see their king now? A king that let his daughter marry a monster that even Zeus himself would be terrified of. You ruined your own life, Filbrick,” Ramona took hold of the king’s wrist in a hard grip and yanked him forward as she sneered in his face, “And I’m going to let you in on a little secret. Fate changes. You now only have ten years left to live. I hope you enjoy it.”

Filbrick bristled and squirmed in her grasp as he spat wild curses as Ramona continued to laugh at his struggle. Filbrick finally wrenched himself free and scurried away into the night.

Ramona’s haunting laugh ended once he was out of sight and she spit on the ground. “What a gutless rat. I hope that vision suited your wishes,” Ramona said.

A dark figure slithered along the roof of the building the oracle stood under when with a sudden burst of action it shot high into the air and arcked backwards. The figure seemed like it was going to crash until at the last second golden wings unfurled and caught itself and landed gently on their feet.

Ramona smirked at the display and rolled her eyes. “I give you credit for style but you have to be honest with me, how badly did that hurt your wings just now, Eros?”

The god watched her emotionlessly before stepping into the moonlight as a big, goofy grin split his face and he shyly scratched his head as his wings flapped in embarrassment. “You got me. It hurts a lot, actually. But I was raised to make an appearance. I can’t help myself,” the god of love chuckled.

Ramona smiled fondly at the god before turning serious. “Was the vision I gave him the one you wanted him to see?” she asked.

“Yes. Thank you for doing this for me,” Eros said with another grin.

Ramona’s brows furrowed at the god. “Why did you want him to see that vision?”

Eros said nothing for a long moment before sighing and rubbing his neck. “I’m trying to give him a chance to save his daughter. If he knows the future, maybe he can change it.”

“Do you think Aphrodite would allow that?”

Eros stayed quiet and said nothing and Ramona had her answer. She had a lot of respect for this boy of a god. He was strong and brave and clever, although a bothersome mischief maker, he also cared deeply about others. He made mistakes in his past but he tried hard every day to make up for them. It was honorable. Even now he was trying to do the right thing. Even if it meant defying his mother. Ramona winced at the thought. Aphrodite was an unforgiving goddess. Going against her wishes almost confirmed someone’s death sentence.

“What are you planning, Eros?” Ramona asked.

Eros jumped at the oracle’s words and his eyes widened. “Wh-what are you talking about? I’m not planning anything at all. Nothing at all,” he stuttered.

Ramona raised a brow and snorted at his words as she shook her head. “You can’t lie to an oracle, sweetie. Whatever you’re planning, you’re conflicted on what to do. I can’t see you or that girl’s future clearly. What I showed Filbrick was only one possible outcome that could be seen. Everything else is hazy.”

Again Eros was silent.

“Look, I have no place in telling a god what to do but…just be careful. You are a god and therefore, you can’t die. But that girl can. Whatever you choose to do…just make sure it’s a good one for her,” Ramona said.

Eros smiled weakly and nodded. “I’ll try my best.”

“That’s the thing about trying. It’s a double edged sword. Swung one way, it cuts in your favor. Swing it the other, it slices through your neck and decapitates you. You can’t ‘try’ to win or ‘try’ to succeed. You _have_ to win. You _have_ to succeed. Think with the mindset of a gladiator. Don’t allow yourself to lose or ‘almost win’ and shrug your shoulders at the outcome. Don’t let this girl have a sad ending because of your actions. Please, Eros, don’t be like your mother. Be better than her. I know you can,” Ramona said firmly.

Eros’ eyes widened more at the oracle’s words before letting out a small chuckle as he smiled again.

“Don’t worry, Ramona. I’m the god of love. Why wouldn’t she be safe in my care?”

Ramona searched his eyes before looking down at the gods hand. The glitching image of an arrow formed in his grasp, bouncing from gold to lead to rusted copper, unintentionally revealing his indecisive thoughts. Ramona sighed and bowed her head.

This princess was in for a ride she won’t soon forget.

If she survives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ramona is Ma Pines (that's the name I gave her bc I hate calling her Ma Pines all the time and that also wouldn't have worked for this fic XD)


	6. Happy Birth-Wedding-Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for:
> 
> Attempted suicide

Being told that he was going to be married on his birthday, _on_ his birthday, was one of the most uncomfortable situations Ford had ever been in. His first reaction was to refuse. He had his tongue loaded with insults for his father but he paused upon seeing the sour look on his face. Ford knew that look meant Filbrick would get his way using any possible method, and Ford didn’t want a repeat of yesterday so his mouth fell shut and he swallowed all resistance. He didn’t even speak up when Filbrick explained that he would be marrying a monster.

Fiddleford, the poor soul, tried to fight against the king’s words and insulted Filbrick for angering a goddess but he was quickly silenced by Carla who then hid the blonde behind her form. While Carla and Shermie didn’t say anything in Ford’s defence, he had to admit that he was touched by the look in their eyes. Even they were enraged by their father’s decision. However, Ford knew that it was useless to fight against their father and he had known long ago that he was going to marry a monster. Maybe not a literal one with sharp teeth and claws, but he had expected something just as bad was going to happen.

Marriage. Ford never thought he would see the day. Unlike what most people (his father) thought, the prince hadn’t minded the idea of marriage. He rather enjoyed it, actually. Living with someone you love and care for who loves and cares for you back seemed like a comforting lifestyle. That’s why Ford had fallen so hard for Fiddleford. He was the only person who truly loved and cared for Ford. Sadly, he also loved and cared for other people, making their relationship impossible. Ford snorted to himself. Being in a relationship with a monster would be quite impossible too. It would be interesting to see how this goes.

“You look handsome.”

Ford turned around from his reflection in the water and smiled brightly at Hagne. “How are you this morning, Hagne?”

The maid smiled weakly in reply. “A bit distraught. I had a whole plan for your birthday and your father decided to steal the show with his awful news,” she replied.

Ford chuckled and turned to face Hagne and watched at the maid’s eyes widened.

“You…you dressed yourself. In the proper attire nonetheless,” Hagne said in shock.

Ford giggled at her words and grabbed onto the flowing bottom of his clothes and exposed his perfectly pedicured and sandle covered feet. “I even cleaned up a little bit,” he said with a smile.

Hagne frowned as she clutched at her chest. “You’re not going to fight this? I thought…I thought you would dress like a man and…and…,” the maid couldn’t finish.

Ford smiled gently at her and reached out to take her hand into his own. “I can’t fight a goddess, Hagne. Trust me, I don’t want to be married to this creature any more than anyone else would, but this is…this is a fight I’m not going to win,” he said with a wilting smile.

He was surprised to find tears in Hagne’s eyes and even more shocked when she launched herself into his arms and hugged him tightly.

“I’m so sorry for treating you so horribly all these years. I’m so sorry I never stood up for you. I’m so sorry for not protecting you from your father,” Hagne sobbed on Ford’s shoulder.

That’s right. Hagne had been watching over him since he lost his mother at age two. She stepped in with a smile on her face and the willingness to take care of him when no one else would. Even though she was told by the king to take care of him, Ford knew she would have done it without anyone asking. Hagne had played with him, patched him up when he fell, tucked him into bed, and helped him survive all these years. He had taken her care for granted the older he became. What an awful mistake.

Ford wrapped his arms around the maid and hugged her tightly as he buried his face in her grey hair. “Thank you for all that you’ve done for me, Hagne. You’ve been a great mother,” he murmured in her curls. The woman smiled and let out a crying laugh on Ford’s shoulder as she tightened her hold on him.

“I wish you had been born as my son. You’re a truly gifted and wonderful prince a-and I’m so sorry for not noticing that sooner,” she confessed.

Butterflies flopped around in his stomach and he smiled sincerely at her words. Being called by the right names. Being noticed for something besides his face. It felt spectacular. Better than he had ever dreamed.

“Thank you, Hagne,” he whispered.

They held each other a few minutes longer before finally pulling free from their hug but stayed close to each other.

“Oh geeze. Look at me. Crying all over a prince on his wedding day. Let me fix your hair a bit before you go,” Hagne said as she scrubbed her plump face free of tears.

Ford chuckled and moved to sit down properly in a chair nearby. “Do what you wish,” he said with a sincere smile.

They spent their time in silence, but Ford soaked in every second. Smoky pink flowers with bright golden balls of pollen nesting inside decorated his curly hair as petals fell onto his shoulders and tickled his skin. Hagne had picked the perfect shade of flower to match his clothes, as she always had. She placed every flower perfectly, like she always had. But this time she surprised him by placing his glasses on his face and smiling as she said, “Perfect.”

Ford blushed at the sincerity on her face and in her words and smiled shyly. “Even with the glasses on?”

“Especially with the glasses on. You look more like the stubborn prince I know with them on,” Hagne said with a smirk and Ford laughed in reply.

“I’m glad to hear that you like the real me,” Ford said.

Hagne smiled at the look of joy on the boy’s face and leaned in to kiss his forehead. Ford stopped laughing from the shock of the affection and stared at the maid who smiled crookedly in reply. His chest fluttered with emotions as tears burned in his eyes. He wrapped his arms around her hips and hugged her close as he buried his face deep in her large stomach. “I’m going to miss you, Hagne,” Ford croaked as he began to cry.

Tears appeared in the maid’s eyes as she laughed as her heart broke in two. “I’m going to miss you too, Ford,” she said with a watery voice as she stroked Ford’s neck in comfort.

Their moment ended quickly when a throat cleared and they looked up to find Filbrick standing at the doorway, looking a little worse for wear. Ford pulled away from Hagne but was surprised to find that the maid was openly glaring at his father. Filbrick bristled at the look and avoided their eyes as he turned his gaze to the floor. “It’s time to go,” he said quietly.

Ford sighed and smiled at the maid one last time. “Goodbye, Hagne,” he said as he moved to stand by his father.

Hagne couldn’t even manage to form a fake smile. She began to cry as she watched Filbrick take hold of Ford’s wrist in a firm grip and begin to drag him away. It wasn’t until they were out of her sight could she utter her last words to her prince.

“Goodbye.”

Ford’s smile fell from his lips when he could no longer see Hagne as he was being yanked down the stairs by his father. He stared down at at his father’s hand and the familiarity of his father handling him in such a way. It was the same way he had grabbed him as a child and pulled him upstairs to use him in any way he chose for the first time. It had been such a dark memory but now he can only look upon it as if it were someone else’s life. As if what he was living now was not his own life. Like he was owned. Ford’s lips twitched at the thought. He was nothing more than a dog being transferred to another master. It was rather funny, if he thought about it hard enough.

As if it were a normal ceremony, his brother and sister and Fiddleford were joining them on their trip up the mountain along with heavily armored soldiers. _Father must be scared of the monster_ ; Ford thought. Ford ignored their stares and looked the other way when Fiddleford tried to speak to him.

Their parade through town to the mountain was a quiet one. No one cheered. Filbrick didn’t ask them too. It’s like everyone already knew what was going to happen. The mountain was horrendously steep. The horses quickly denied to move any further, placing everyone on their feet as they moved up the mountain. It was sunset when they reached the summit. Clouds surrounded them above and below as orange stained the clouds pink and turned everything else into fire.

“This isn’t a marriage, this is a death sentence!”

Fiddleford’s enraged scream pulled Ford back to reality as he turned his gaze from the clouds to his old friend. Fiddleford was yelling and screaming at Carla who roared right back, holding him back from Filbrick who held a nervous close watch of the edge of the cliff. The fight between Fiddleford and Carla became heated as Shermie squeezed himself between the two, stopping his sister from attacking her husband as Fiddleford tried to go to Ford.

Ford let out a small chuckle at the sight as he turned his eyes back to the clouds and stepped up to the edge of the cliff. The tips of his toes dangled off the edge. The smile disappeared from his lips as he stared at the clouds below. He knew how deep that cavern was. He knew that once he disappeared behind those clouds, he would never return.

Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

Maybe there was one last thing he could do that would let him have control over his life once again.

_Jump;_ the wind whispered.

Ford glanced over his shoulder at his family. They continued to fight and scream at each other on Ford’s behalf. Filbrick was shaking and barely holding himself together as they awaited the monster.

_Jump;_ the wind said in earnest.

Ford swallowed and turned his eyes back to the clouds. Just one step and his life would be his own. He could choose what he wanted to do with his life. He could escape his father. He wouldn’t have to marry a monster.

_Jump!_ The wind howled.

Ford cast one last glance over his shoulder and locked eyes with Fiddleford. The blonde’s eyes widened in terrified realization as he struggled harder in Shermie’s arms.

“Ford don’t do it! Get back from there! Don’t do it!” Fiddleford screeched.

Ford only smiled as tears filled his eyes.

“No!” Filbrick screamed, “This isn’t how it’s supposed to happen!”

Ford gathered a brave breath and turned his back to his family.

“Ford stop! Stop please! Please stop!” Fiddleford wailed, tears rolling down his face and a sob caught in his throat, “Please don’t do it! Please! I love you! Don’t do this!”

Fiddleford’s words struck his heart and Ford began to cry as he stared at the clouds.

_Jump_.

Ford jumped. He heard Fiddleford’s screams through the fluffy pink clouds and he screwed his eyes shut as the wind whipped around him and dragged down into the dark abyss. This was it. His life was his own again. Even if for just a few seconds, but it was his life and he had control of it. Stanford smiled as tears lifted from his lashes and floated in the air as they fell with him. Finally. His own life.

“That’s a rather dangerous thing to do, don’t you think?”

Ford’s eyes burst open as he searched wildly for the source of the voice, but there was no one to be found. The wind around him swirled in a controlled rhythm until his body began to slow and he fell like a feather in still air as if something was carrying him.

“Who…who are you?” Ford asked.

“I am the wind. Your husband wished for me to-.”

“Wait, you’re the wind? You really told me to jump? I thought that was just in my head! Why the hell are you telling me it’s dangerous to jump when you told me to do it?!” Ford snapped.

“Because I didn’t think you’d jump in all freestyle like that! Like damn! Who the hell just readily launches themself off a mountain like that?!”

“I was about to be married to a monster! Life wasn’t exactly going well for me!”

“Okay, damn! Shit! You don’t have to be so fuckin’ loud! This is the last time I do anything for people. I get no thank you in return. Fuck,” the wind growled angrily.

Ford scowled at the air around him as he glanced around him. They were steadily falling lower and lower down the steep mountainside with no end in sight.

“Heads up,” the wind said nonchalantly.

Ford raised his head to see the pink clouds far above them part to reveal a giant monster hovering by the mountain peak. Ford’s heart lurched in his chest and fear rushed through his trembling body. The monster let out a frightening shriek and turned it’s head to glare at Ford’s body in ravenous hunger before letting out another scream as it turned and began to chase Ford down.

“Uhh, I don’t mean to interrupt any thoughts you may or may not be able to conjure up with the lack of a brain but that thing is coming after us,” Ford said fearfully.

“Okay, one, fuck you. I may not be a brilliant scientist or anything but I do have a brain. Second of all, I know that thing is headed towards us. I have eyes everywhere and I even gave you a heads up. Thirdly, it’ll never reach us,” the wind replied moodily.

“Are you sure about that? Because his teeth are getting a little too close for comfort,” Ford said.

“You know, you’re pretty concerned about your life for a guy who jumped off a mountain.”

“Will you shut up and **_move_**! The monster is right on top of us!”

“Hey, hey! My job was to bring you down here for your husband. Everything else isn’t my problem. Besides, what do you think I can do? I don’t have hands.”

“…are you kidding me right now?”

“Oh shut up, you know it was funny. But seriously, don’t worry. Your husband is pretty strong. That monster is nothing to him,” the wind replied.

The monster screeched and Ford let out a frightened cry as he began to hyperventilate. Falling to his death would be so much more peaceful than being eaten and torn apart by a monster. A flash of light caught Ford’s eyes and he squinted into the clouds high above the monster. Three bronze arrows sliced through the air and drilled in deep into the monster’s neck. The creature wailed in pain as it panicked and steered into a mountain nearby. It head struck the rocky edge and made the whole world shake as blood splashed onto the falling mountainside. The monster let out one last scream as the mountain crumbled and buried his beaten body under heavy rock. Ford was breathless. It took only three arrows for that monster to come crashing down.

“What did I tell you? He took care of the monster no problem,” the wind said.

“You said he was strong but…I didn’t think…”

“Yeah, yeah, you underestimate my truth telling abilities. I get it. Now look or you’re going to miss it. It’s your new home,” the wind replied.

Ford forced his eyes away from the dead monster and turned to stare at the mountain. A bright white marble and gold palace sat inside a rocky cut out of the side of the mountain, filled with pillars and almost completely bare of walls. It was four times the size of his father’s castle and it was glorious. Light that escaped through the clouds caused the palace to glow and Ford found himself unable to look away.

“What kind of monster lives in a place like this?”

The wind only chuckled as he slowly lowered Ford on his feet on the front steps of the palace.

“Hey, fix your hair a bit. You look like crap,” the wind said.

Ford scowled until he felt the air still and turned back to the palace. It was truly grand. It was easily the most beautiful thing Stanford had ever seen.

“Do you like it?” a deep, growling voice echoed through the palace.

Ford jumped at the sound and slowly turned in a slow circle as he searched for a body from which the voice would belong to, but there was none. It didn’t sound like the wind. The wind sounded like a bratty teenager who wore nothing but black. This voice…this voice was much different. Young, but seasoned. A voice that’s been through a lot. Rough in sound but spoke softly as if to keep from frightening Ford. Oddly gentle for a monster.

“Who are you? And _where_ are you?” Ford asked as he continued to search for his husband with squinting eyes.

“Ah, about that. I, um, prefer that you don’t see me. I assure you that I’m here, but I wish to…keep my appearance from you,” the voice said shyly.

Ford raised a brow. “Are you so butt ugly of a monster that you’re afraid to show yourself to me?”

The voice gave a hearty, raspy laugh that died out into calming chuckles. “No, I’m not ugly at all. Nor am I a monster, princess. I-.”

Ford’s eyes flashed. “I’m going to stop you right there. I am **_not_ ** a princess. I am a **_man_ ** and I will be addressed as such.”

“As you wish.”

Ford blinked. And then blinked again. “Did…did you just say ‘as you wish’? To me?”

“Of course. Only you would know who you truly are. I’ve literally just met you. I have no right to tell you what gender you are,” the voice replied with ease.

Ford only stared at the air before him. “I…I think I need to sit down,” Ford said shakily.

“Oh! Let me get that for you,” the voice said. Suddenly, a chair in the center of the room dragged itself across the floor and positioned itself behind Ford, awaiting for him to sit. Ford slowly eased down into the chair in a daze as he continued to blink.

“Prince Psyche? Are you alright?” the voice asked.

“My name is Ford,” the prince croaked.

The voice chuckled as Ford’s heart fluttered at the noise. “My apologies. I only knew of the title your parents had given you,” the voice said.

Ford had to be dreaming. Or he had finally lost it.

“I think…I think I should go lay down,” Ford said with trembling hands.

“Oh? Are you sure? You haven’t eaten yet and it’s far too early to go to bed. I can play music for you while you eat. I’ll even fetch water for you when you run out. You won’t have to lift a finger,” the voice said eagerly. The voice sounded almost…excited.

“No, no. I should really lay down and…and get some sleep. Maybe conjure up a therapist in my dreams,” Ford replied, still in shock.

“You’re right. I’m sure it’s been a long day for you. The bedroom is off to your left. I’ve already made up the bed for you. I hope it’s comfortable enough for you, prince Ford,” the voice said in a slightly worried tone.

Ford stumbled towards the bedroom in a haze, still in shock from his husband’s words. He climbed into bed and blindly pulled the covers over his head as the voice gently whispered, “Sweet dreams.”

All Ford could think was; _This has to be a joke._

Hours later the sky was a calm dark blue and bright stars twinkled in the sky. Ford laid sleeping in bed as crickets sang to him. A black figure stood beside the bed and stared at Ford’s sleeping form. The figure took in a deep, brave breath before lifting the covers and sliding beneath them. Ford frowned in his sleep and he instantly became tense at the feeling of another body sleeping next to him as he slowly curled into a ball.

“No, no. Shhh, shhhhh. You’re fine. I won’t hurt you. I just want to hold you. Is that okay?”

Ford tried to open his eyes but his mind was too clouded and tired to conjure up the energy to do so. So instead he slowly relaxed against the figure’s body, easing back into the figure’s chest as arms wrapped around Ford.

“There you go. That doesn’t feel bad, does it? I promise that I won’t hurt you,” the figure murmured in Ford’s hair.

The prince frowned at his words and grunted in his sleep, “Liar.”

The figure chuckled and held Ford closer as a pair of lips kissed his shoulder.

“I promise you. I’m not.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally Stan get's involved.
> 
> And Robbie was the wind.


	7. Steaming Food

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: mentions of incestual sexual abuse

Ford smiled as he sank deeper into into his bed as sunlight soaked into his tanned skin. He had never felt so peaceful in his life. He never felt so comfortable before. So safe. So warm.

“Good morning, prince Ford,” a voice murmured softly in his ear.

His eyes shot open as panic raced through his veins. He lurched off the bed, scrambling towards the nearest furniture and ducking behind it as he heart pounded. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to sleep in. I’m so sorry, I can get ready in no time. I’m so sorry, please don’t punish me!” Ford cried out as he curled into a tight ball.

“Whoa, whoa! It’s okay, Ford. You’re safe. It’s me. You’re safe with me. Just breathe. Take your time to calm down. I promise, you’re safe here,” the voice said softly.

Ford’s panic began to recede as his brain started to register the voice and it’s words. He wasn’t at home anymore. He was married. He was safe and far away from anyone who would dare-

“Wait a minute,” anger encouraged Ford to stand tall and glare at the air around him as he narrowed his eyes in suspicion, “did you hold me last night?”

There was a dead silence and Ford raised a brow.

“Uh...no?” the voice repeated with an uneasy chuckle. Ford narrowed his eyes even more.

“I thought so. I don’t remember giving you permission to touch me,” Ford replied.

“Actually, you did. I had to calm you down a bit because you started to roll up into an uncomfortable ball, but you did allow me to lay in bed with you.”

“And I was under influence. You can’t get true consent from someone under influence,” Ford replied.

“You didn’t drink! You didn’t even eat yesterday. Oh, which reminds me, I have breakfast waiting for you,” the voice shot back.

Ford smirked at the air as he adjusted his clothes. “It’s funny how you think a bride isn’t gonna drink on her wedding day. Especially when she’s being forced into marriage,” Ford scoffed.

“I thought you said you were a man?”

Ford’s face darkened before he stared at the floor, “I highly doubt you care what I call myself.”

“I do, actually. I don’t like to misgender people. And I have done so to you before and I apologize for that.”

“I’m not gonna fall for that trap. No matter what you say, you’re not touching me again.”

“That isn’t what this is about. I am deeply regretful of calling you by the wrong terms and I was apologizing.”

Ford gave the air around him a weird look as he scratched his arm. This voice was an odd duck. “So, since you won’t tell me your real name, what should I call you?”

The voice was quiet again and Ford raised a brow.

“Ahh, um, I, uh, I um...you...you can call me St-Stan? Yeah. Yeah, Stan. You can call me Stan,” the voice said, seeming to be proud of themself.

Ford rolled his eyes. That was a pretty pathetic thing to stroke the ego over. His stomach suddenly let out a violent roar and the prince blushed at the sound. He was starving. He hadn’t eaten in...almost two days? How is he still alive?

“You sound hungry. If you want, you can change and I can go set the table for you,” the voice said with a smile in his tone.

“Oh no, these clothes are just fine,” Ford said with a sharp glare. Just because he was married didn’t mean he was going to so willingly allow his husband to touch or see any part of him.

“Hm, alright. If you say so. Breakfast is one pillar to the left, down the hall, and past the pillar on your right,” Stan said. Ford frowned at his words, wanting to hide somewhere for the rest of his life instead of eating with a husband he didn’t want hanging over his shoulder. But then his stomach growled again and gave him stabbing pains that Ford had to subdue. So he obediently followed his husband’s directions and his eyes grew upon seeing the large feast resting on the table before him.

“I wasn’t sure what you liked so I, uh, I made a bit of everything,” Stan said with a nervous chuckle.

“I’m surprised a voice knows how to cook,” Ford mused.

“I’m not a voice. I have one, but I’m not one. I have a physical form I’m just keeping it from you,” he said as if rehearsed.

“How are you keeping it from me? Some type of camouflage? A cloaking device?” Ford pressed.

“You just won’t let it go, will you?” Stan replied. He didn’t sound irritated, but actually amused. The voice even chuckled.

“I get annoyed when people don’t listen to me,” Ford shrugged.

“As is the way of royalty.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

“It just means that in my experience with those in high power, they tend to demand to be heard.”

“Oh, and a voice has experience with those of power? As what? A servant?”

“Y’know you struck me as the kinda guy who hates the separation of people based on income, but you’re acting like a spoiled prince that encourages it,” the voice replied tartly.

Ford pressed his lips together tightly but dropped his head and said nothing in reply. It was true. He did hate it when those whom had more money lorded it over the poor and teased them for something they couldn’t control. It was something his father did and it was unfair and unkind. “I’m sorry,” Ford murmured. A sigh floated throughout the room as an expensive cloth lifted from the table and gently floated into Ford’s hands. Ford stared at the fine thread count in confusion until wet drops fell onto his skin. Oh. He was crying. His emotions were shot more than he previously thought.

“I’m sorry. That was horrible of me to say. You’ve been through a lot and my attitude isn’t helping. Eat if you’d like. I’m just...I’m going to leave you alone for a while,” the voice muttered before vanishing without another breath.

Ford slowly sat down in front of the table, tearing up as he stared at the food. The mild burns on his skin bit at him as he remembered his last night at home. The hot food burning his delicate skin. Rough hands pinning down his body. A harsh voice spitting out vile slurs as his father took everything he wanted from his own flesh and blood. Bile filled Ford’s throat and the urge to hide every inch of his body grew strong as he once again lost his appetite. He stood up and turned his back on the table overflowing with delicious foods and headed back to the bed he woke up on.

The moment his head rested on his pillow he was quickly pulled down into a dark, nightmarish sleep.


	8. Don't Be Like Them

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got lazy and neglected to add more chapters to this sight while my blog has three more. My bad.

Pathetic whimpers fell from Ford’s lips as his body began to tighten into a ball. His knuckles turned white as his too long nails scratched and tore at the sheets below. Tears gathered on his long lashes as his teeth gnashed and his body trembled. His lips formed silent pleads as he began to squirm on his bed as if invisible hands were holding him down. Sweat trickled down his temple as his body locked in fear. His eyes slowly fluttered open, the room around him impossible to see through the darkness. He had slept the day away. His stomach hissed in anger and Ford stifled the noise by pressing down hard on the organ.

While the room was dark, he could still hear a faint rustling behind him, alerting the prince that his husband was standing beside his bed. Ford didn’t even bother to turn or greet his husband. He knew that his “beloved” would say something sooner or later.

“Prince Ford, are you alright?” the voice asked slowly, as if it didn’t want to speak. That was new.

Ford shrugged. The movement most likely hadn’t been seen but at least his silence would answer the asked question.

The voice, Stan, sighed, a sound that Ford was growing used to and beginning to link to disappointment. “Do you mind if I lay beside you? I promise that I won’t touch you. I just…I want to be next to you. And I’m tired and this is the only bed in the house,” Stan chuckled weakly.

Ford had never noticed before, but Stan’s voice was different. Not that the voice sounded deeper as if he were going through puberty, but it sounded…closer. It sounded more real while he was in a physical form. It was oddly comforting and a little frightening. “It’s your house,” Ford murmured, voice cracking from his tear tightened throat.

“It’s your personal space,” Stan replied.

Ford said nothing and awaited for Stan’s weight to dip the bed beside him. Nothing happened. “I thought you were tired,” Ford said.

“Exhausted, but I’m not going to lay by your side unless you give me permission. I fucked up the first night by doing that and I’m not going to repeat it. I can just sleep in a chair or the floor. It’s no big deal. My apologies for asking to intrude in your space,” Stan said with a faint rustle. Ford could only picture that rustle being a polite and respectful bow and his confused thoughts on his husband only grew.

“Just get in the fucking bed,” Ford growled, tired and wanting to go back to sleep instead of encouraging this kind stranger into his bed.

There was a moment of stillness before the sheets on the bed began to shuffle and a warm body slipped onto the large mattress. Stan’s surprisingly heavy body pulled him deep into the mattress and forced Ford to shuffle over or risk being pulled against his husband’s side. They laid in silence for a long time. Both of them aware of how close they were but neither knowing what to say. Which was just fine with Ford. He desperately needed sleep.

“Thank you,” Stan murmured.

It seemed like Ford wasn’t going to be able to sleep for a while. “Mm,” Ford grunted, wishing that Stan would understand that he wasn’t in the mood for small talk.

“Prince Ford…would you mind if I asked you a question?” Stan asked.

Ford sighed. He just wanted to sleep. “Sure,” he replied.

“When you dream and…when you woke up this morning…who were you thinking of?”

Ford felt his body tense and become alert, all wishing of sleep dismissed from his body. His husband sure knew how to rile him up.

“Was it your father?”

“You ask a lot of questions for someone who doesn’t want to invade someone’s personal space,” Ford snapped.

They laid in silence again. Both of them drained and needing sleep but now wide awake. Ford began to grind his teeth again as his simmering annoyance and frustration began to bubble into anger. He hated this. He hated that he was so relieved not to be alone, but he was so frightened about the fact that Stan could reach out and touch him, and control him, and Ford wouldn’t be able to do a thing about it. How would he be able to fight of something that obviously wasn’t a human? His father used him for years and Ford had never been able to fend him off. And his father **_was_ ** human.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked such a private question,” Stan said at almost a whisper.

He was sorry? No one was ever sorry for him. Not even Fiddleford was sorry for him, if he was he would have divorced C-Ford winced at his own thoughts. He was being selfish. Fiddleford was in love with someone else and that was okay. It hurt. Oh did it hurt, but Ford couldn’t control whom Fiddleford loved. Besides, Fiddleford was a good man. Even if Fiddleford didn’t love him the way he wanted Ford to, he still cared for his friend. He knew that.

Ford clawed at his pillow as tears burned in his eyes. Fiddleford had good reasons to not like him. He was tainted and used. A toy for humankind to abuse as they pleased. He wasn’t a real man, cursed to be born in a body society believed to belong in a bed or a kitchen. He was never going to be recognized for his intelligence. He was only going to be another pretty face. It didn’t even make sense for him to hold so much wisdom if it wasn’t going to be used for anything. A waste. Like his existence.

Before Ford could stop it a small sob escaped his throat, his crying becoming known to his husband.

“Prince Ford? Are you crying? Are you okay?” Stan asked.

Ford felt the bed dip lower as his husband began to shift in the bed, sliding closer to him, arm outstretched to touch him. Ford felt his body begin to close in on himself as he gritted his teeth.

“Please don’t be like them,” he croaked.

Stan’s body stilled.

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t be like _**them**_. I don’t-I don’t want to be used for other’s pleasure. I don’t want to feel like this anymore,” Ford squeaked as his breath hitched and his throat tightened.

“Don’t want to feel like what?”

“Like I’m nothing more than a whore!-” Ford screamed as his fingers tore at the fabric below, “I’m so sick of-of feeling this _disgusted_ with myself! I know I can be more than sexual pleasure. I know I can be more than something for my father to take his anger out on. I’m tired of feeling all of this pain. I’m tired of being in this **_stupid_ ** body. I’m sick of crying and I h-hate l-li-living i-in fear!” Ford quickly lost all control and began to wail as tears stung his eyes and drenched his cheeks. His body curled and crunched until he fit into a tight circle and his forehead rested on his knees. He hated this life. He hated that the Wind rescued him from when he jumped. He wished he had the guts to try to kill himself again. But he was such a wimp.

Time passed as Ford continued to cry to himself and for himself. The wind hummed as it brushed by, carrying the songs of crickets and lonely creatures. The stars twinkled in the dark sky but the beautiful sight was hidden from Ford laying inside the palace wedged in the side of the mountain. He wasn’t sure he even knew what those looked like anymore. He had been held in captivity for so long…

Suddenly the bed shifted once again and Ford tensed as he waited for the familiar touch on calloused hands on his delicate skin. However, Stan’s weight moved back into it’s original place and nothing touched Ford’s trembling form. When Stan finally spoke his voice was soft and soothing, almost as if he cared for Ford. Which was impossible.

“I promise you, Prince Ford, I will never touch you unless you ask me to. I won’t hurt you in any way and I will keep you safe so you can’t be hurt by anyone,” Stan said calmly. He said it as if he meant it. Ford didn’t understand that.

“How can you be so sure of that?” Ford muttered.

“Because I like to think that I’m not a monster. And if I’m being honest…I know what it’s like to go through some of that,” Stan whispered back as if he didn’t want to admit it.

Ford didn’t know if he could believe Stan or not, but so far the voice hadn’t lied to him. Either way Stan’s words soothed him. His cries calmed down to a mere sob and he was able to scrub his face dry with the back of his hands. His body relaxed after a few steadying breaths and he managed to unfurl his body and take up a fourth of the bed rather than a ninth. After he was able to manage to calm down his mind began to reel. Stan claimed to have gone through what he had. At least some of it. He found that almost unbelievable.

“How…how could you have gone through what I did? You’re not human by any means and you took down a monster thrice the size of this palace. How could someone touch you?” Ford asked, his back still facing his husband from the slight chance of being used.

“The same way someone could touch a prince.”


	9. Awkward Redo

Ford idly played with the piece of bread in his lap and nearly refused to look up from his hands. He remembered every word from last night and couldn’t help but feel embarrassed. He couldn’t believe he just opened his mouth like that and spat out all of those secrets. He had never done anything like that before and now he couldn’t help but feel…ashamed. Confessing to the things he had…it was embarrassing. He was so weak.

“Aren’t you going to eat? You must be starving,” Stan’s voice asked in a concerned tone.

“I’m famished, but…,” Ford bit his lip and said nothing more. It wasn’t his place to ask. He wouldn’t want anyone asking him to share his pain. He couldn’t ask Stan to do something he wouldn’t.

“Is there something wrong? Is the food not prepared correctly?” Stan asked, sounding closer and fretting mistakes, but nowhere to be seen.

“No, no! The food…the food is just fine. I was just…thinking. Don’t worry about it. It’s nothing important,” Ford said with a weak smile.

The prince tossed all of his questions aside and gazed at the feast before him. He had never seen most of this food before. They were all foreign and in such massive proportions. Ford wondered how Stan got his hands on such things. His eyes landed on the large hunk of meat resting on the center of the table and his mouth began to water. He swallowed his saliva and calmly laid his bread on his plate before stretching out his arms and began cutting into the meat. His glasses fogged from the heat as a delicious aroma filled his nose, calling the prince to moan in want. Juices pushed out from the flesh of the meat as his knife glided through it with ease. Ford was shaking when he placed his small proportion onto his plate, resisting the urge to steal the whole carcass and shove it into his mouth. He took a few other odd and ends from the table until the center of his plate was neatly filled with food. He was so hungry that he didn’t believe that this small plateful was going to cut it, but it’s all he could take.

“Uh, I don’t want to offend you or step outta line or anything, but how you ate back at home…you don’t have to do that here. I made all of this for you to enjoy. Eat as much as you want,” Stan said with a smile in his voice.

Ford stared at his plate before lifting his eyes to the rest of the food on the table. He gulped and tentatively reached out with shaking fingers to pluck a slice of meat from his plate. He paused centimeters away from his small portion, his eyes glued to the unidentifiable chunk of meat. With a burst of action he reached across the table and ripped off a huge hunk of meat and stuffed it into his mouth, instantly moaning at the wonderful taste as juices dribbled from his lips and fingers. Holy shit this stuff was wonderful. Soon Ford’s hands were flying all over the table, snatching random food and shoving it into his mouth. The differences in flavors were astounding and each one made him groan louder than before. Some were salty. Some were savory. Some were spicy and some were sweet. They were all just so different and unlike anything he had tasted before.

Ford had quickly made a mess of himself. His hands and face were caked in food and drool as he stuffed himself silly. He only stopped when his stomach bulged obscenely and and only scraps were left on the table. Ford moaned as his stomach gurgled and he carefully laid himself down on the floor as his body struggled to digest the mass of food he had just swallowed. Stan’s voice chuckled throughout the room and Ford felt himself begin to blush.

“It looks like you enjoyed yourself,” Stan said, another smile in his voice.

Ford’s blush deepened as he wiped his hands and face on his clothes. He hated this wedding garb anyways. “S-sorry. I was just so hungry. I hadn’t eaten in a few days and the food just smelled so wonderful I…I kind of went overboard. Sorry about that.”

“Nonsense! I wanted you to eat. I’m glad you enjoyed it so much.”

“I made a mess of myself,” Ford chuckled shyly.

“You look cute. It was good to see you enjoy yourself a bit,” Stan replied cheerfully.

Ford found himself blushing again as he sat up and tried to hide his face. His heart fluttered in his chest as he brushed his fingertips over the hot skin on his cheeks. He wasn’t used to this. He wasn’t used to eating food until he popped. He wasn’t used to blushing at honest compliments. He wasn’t used to being treated like…like…like a human. A rush of giddiness bubbled through his body and Ford vehemently shook his head to rid himself of the feeling. He shouldn’t let himself grow attached to his husband or his flattery. Someday he could turn on him and hurt Ford deeply. It was best to keep his distance. Right?

“Prince Ford, do have a favorite instrument?” Stan asked innocently.

“A favorite instrument?” Ford repeated in surprise.

“Y-yeah. What’s your favorite instrument to listen to?” Stan asked again, sounding eager for an answer.

Ford rested his chin into his hand as he pondered upon the question. He actually didn’t know. He never really attended concerts since he never left his house, so music was not a common thing for him. It never played in the palace because his father thought it was nothing more than annoying and distracting racket. So in the way of music Ford was highly under educated. But wishing not to look stupid, Ford scrambled to find the names of familiar instruments.

“U-um, I like the lyre and the, uh, the pan pipes,” Ford replied, swallowing thickly as he smiled a bit too broadly.

“The lyre and pan pipes? Huh. I expected you to list off an instrument that wasn’t as common as those,” Stan hummed, thinking to himself.

Ford stared down at his lap in shame as his fingers fiddled with his clothing. “W-well, to be completely honest with you, I haven’t actually…I haven’t really heard music before. I mean, I’ve had a few people play serenades for me as an offering and I had a close…friend who was a fan of foreign instruments, but I never really heard them for long.”

“Music virgin, eh?” Ford blushed at his husband’s choice of words and earned a chuckle in reply, “I’ll have to play something for you sometime. If you’d like, that is.”

Ford flushed again but this time it was from pure excitement. “I would love it! Ah, I mean…what do you play?” Ford asked, trying to restrain himself.

“I’m best with a lyre. It was the first instrument I learned. I was kinda born knowing how to play it, actually,” Stan chuckled.

“A music prodigy?” Ford asked, rather surprised.

“I guess so. I wouldn’t really know. I picked up music in my spare time which was only small bursts throughout my days. I was far too busy with my…family…to be wasting time playing music. At least, that’s what I was told,” Stan replied. Ford could hear the dismissive shrug in his voice, but it still didn’t mask the small dose of tightness in his tone.

Ford desperately wanted to ask his husband about the abuse he went through with his family. The question rested on the tip of his tongue but his jaw screwed his mouth closed. It wasn’t his business to know. Just because they were married didn’t mean that they were in love or owed each other anything. If Ford didn’t have to tell him anything, neither did Stan. Although Ford was more than sure that Stan would answer him if he asked. That’s just who he was.

They sat in another one of their famous bouts of silence until Ford cleared his throat nervously.

“Um, Stan…do you think you could…teach me how to play sometime? I don’t really care what instrument it is, but…would you mind showing me how to play?” Ford asked.

Ford could feel Stan’s beaming smile in the air. That shouldn’t have made Ford as happy as it did.

“No problem! I think you would be particularly good with a lyre. Those extra fingers would be quite handy on and instrument like that. No pun intended,” Stan chuckled.

Ford scowled as his mood curdled and plummeted. He ground his teeth as his hands formed into fists and he stuffed them between his legs to hide them out of sight. “Yes, well, thanks. I guess,” he muttered lowly.

“Prince Ford? Did I upset you?” Stan asked in concern.

“Nope. I’m completely fine,” Ford lied as he climbed to his feet.

“I…I didn’t mean to upset you. I don’t know what I did but I’m sor-.”

“Just drop it!” Ford hissed, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides, “Just…just forget it. I don’t bother teaching me an instrument either. It’s not information I need to know. I don’t even know why I asked in the first place.”

“Oh…okay. Whatever you want, prince Ford.”

Fuck. The pained sadness in Stan’s voice was almost too much to bear. But Ford wasn’t going to take back what he said.

Without another word Ford headed back to his room. He didn’t even bother telling Stan to stay away from him.

He had a feeling that Stan knew to leave him alone.


	10. Apologies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for peeps who are squeamish about regurgitation like me. I don't go into huge details about it but you def know what's going on and it's in half the chapter.

Ford clutched at his gurgling stomach as it twisted in anger. He groaned as another sluggish wave of nausea washed through his body and he swayed on his knees. Sweat dripped from his temple and beaded on his brow as he carefully cradled his stomach with a single hand and his mouth with the other. After walking away from Stan he had gone straight to his room and laid down. After getting a few hours of sleep in he suddenly awoke as the sun was setting with an aching stomach. He had been fighting off nausea for hours but now he sat on the floor praying to Zeus that he wouldn’t get sick even though his stomach seemed to encourage it.

A surge of bile crawled into his throat and he threw a hand over his mouth as he whined pathetically. He so badly wanted to blame Stan for making him sick with poorly prepared food, but he knew it wasn’t his fault. It was Ford’s. He had been so selfish when eating that he had forgotten to take precaution when it came to proportions. He hadn’t eaten in so long that his stomach had forgotten how to digest and Ford had eaten such a large quantity that his stomach wasn’t used to seeing in one setting. And Ford was wrecked with so much guilt for being so rude to Stan earlier. This had to be his punishment for being so awful.

Tears pricked at the corners of Ford’s eyes as he felt his body break into a cold sweat as his vision blurred. Shit. He was going to be sick.

A soft breeze brushed over his clammy skin as Stan suddenly appeared in the room behind him. Ford could almost cry with joy.

“Prince Ford, I know you didn’t want me to apologize but I feel like I need to anyways. I don’t know what I said or did to upset you but…prince Ford? Are you okay?” Stan asked, his nervous tone turning into curiosity.

Ford’s shoulder’s began to shake as tears fell down his face as his hands trembled. “I…I feel sick,” Ford managed to squeeze through his tight pale lips.

Stan cursed and Ford heard footsteps approach him until large hand took gentle hold of his shoulders. Stan had human hands. “Do you know why you’re sick?” Stan asked.

“T-too much food,” Ford groaned as his stomach gave another violent twist. He let out a strangled cry as he clawed at his skin and clothes, “I’m gonna be sick.”

“Shh, shh, it’s okay. I should’ve paced you. It’s my fault. I forgot about how sensitive human stomachs could be. Just take some careful breaths and let yourself calm down,” Stan said in a soothing voice.

“I don’t think I have time for that,” Ford gasped moments before he gagged. He lurched forward and emptied his stomach onto his own lap, crying as he did. Stan cursed again but continued to rub his back in comfort until Ford was done.

Even when he finished Ford couldn’t stop crying. He was crying because he wasted all of that food. He was crying because his throat burned as if he swallowed fire. He was crying because he ruined his clothes. He was crying because even though he had been so mean to him hours earlier, Stan was right by his side taking care of him. Why did he deserve to be comforted like this? He didn’t.

“M-m-my throat h-hurts a-and it tastes aw-awful,” Ford groaned.

“Shh, shh. Don’t cry. It’s okay. Let’s get you out of these clothes and into bed. You’ll feel much better if you get some sleep. I’ll clean everything up for you. Would you like some water too? You need to stay hydrated and I think that will help get the taste out of your mouth,” Stan murmured as he rubbed Ford’s back and wiped tears from his face.

“Wh-wh-why are you doing this?” Ford stuttered as he choked on a sob.

“What do you mean?” Stan asked.

“Wh-why are you taking care of me? I was s-so mean to you a-and you-you-you’r-,” Stan silenced Ford with a gentle shush before the prince could fall into another bout of sickness from his emotions.

“You had a right to be mad at me. I upset you somehow and I do apologize for doing so. I honestly didn’t mean to hurt you in any way. And now I’ve made you sick by not looking out for you. To be honest I’m kind of angry with myself as well,” Stan said.

“But you didn’t-!”

“Shh, take it easy. Let’s get you cleaned up before we talk any further about this,” Stan said bluntly. He meant business.

Stan asked permission to remove his clothing, promising that he couldn’t see him in the dark, which Ford agreed to with a subtle nod of his head. Stan must have somehow felt the movement because he began peeling the wedding attire from his body slowly, being careful so as not to touch Ford or get his previous lunch on him. Stan told the prince that he was going to have to stand and took hold of his waist and hand and aided Ford to his feet so he could step away from the soiled clothing. Ford shivered as the sweat on his naked body encouraged the cold air to brush it’s long fingers along his skin and raise goosebumps along his flesh. He pressed into Stan’s side for warmth and support, surprised to find that his husband’s body was human shaped as well.

“Just take it easy, my prince. You’re right by your bed. Just lay down slow and easy…there you go. Would you like me to cover you with your blanket?” Stan asked as he led and lowered Ford onto the bed.

“No,” Ford croaked as his tears finally dried and his cries ended.

“Okay. Okay, I won’t. Just sit tight for a bit while I dispose of the mess. I promise I’ll be back, okay?” Stan asked.

“Okay,” Ford replied softly.

“I’ll be fast,” Stan said, trying to sooth the brunette.

He held true to his word. Stan was only gone for no more than a few minutes before Ford could feel his presence in the room again.

“I brought you some water. I’m gonna set it beside you, okay? Are you feeling better? Are you cold?” Stan asked, his voice tight with worry.

“I’m okay. I think,” Ford replied.

He heard Stan release a sigh and felt more confused than ever.

“I’m glad. I was so scared for a bit,” Stan chuckled.

“Why?”

“Well, because I don’t want to see you in pain.”

“Why?”

“…What do you mean?”

“Why don’t you want to see me in pain? Everyone else does. And I was awful to you. Wouldn’t you want me to feel a little bit of pain? Wasn’t this a little gratifying to you?”

“Of course it wasn’t! I was scared for you! I thought that I had hurt you! No amount of you hurting me will ever make me want to see you in pain. I told you I wasn’t going to be like them, remember?” Stan asked softly after his exclamation.

Ford said nothing in reply as his heart clenched in his chest. He fought off tears as his throat began to close. He didn’t deserve this. He _**wanted** _ to be treated the way Stan tried to treat him, but he didn’t deserve it.

“Prince Ford? Are you crying?”

“I-I’m sorry for getting mad at you,” Ford murmured, ignoring Stan’s words.

“…It’s okay, prince Ford. You had your reasons-.”

“No, I didn’t. What you said wasn’t insulting in any form. I’m just…I’m sensitive about…about my hands,” Ford confessed.

“Oh. _Oh_. Prince Ford, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know…I’m sorry I said that. That was inexcusable. No wonder you were mad at me,” Stan groaned, cursing himself.

“You said nothing offensive. I just prefer not to address my birth defect. But you wouldn’t know that because I never told you because I don’t like talking about it,” Ford chuckled and immediately regretted when air brushed the burning walls of his throat.

“Still, I should have-.”

“It’s okay, Stan. I promise. You did nothing wrong. Thank you for taking care of me,” Ford interrupted.

Stan paused before sighing. “It’s no problem. Is there anything else I can do?” Stan asked.

The gears in Ford’s head churned until he found what he wanted and blushed lightly at the thought. He hoped Stan would be okay with the request. “Would you…would you lay next to me? Hold me while I sleep? I like, ah, physical comfort when I’m sick,” Ford said honestly.

Stan didn’t reply for a long time. The silence was unbearable for Ford. His heart raced in his chest as he waited for the man’s answer.

“I…could you, I mean we-I mean…would you mind wrapping yourself in the blanket first? I just don’t want to intrude and I don’t want you to wake up tomorrow and freak out because you’re naked and in my arms. I kinda already pushed my luck today by undressing you. Which I’m sorry I had to do, by the way,” Stan said. He sounded as if he were blushing. Ford couldn’t deny, that was pretty cute.

“That’s okay with me,” Ford replied as he turned onto his side. He pulled the blanket up to his shoulders and wrapped himself inside the blanket and laid still for Stan.

Stan must have been nervous or wary because it took him a few minutes to get the courage to climb into bed and the whole time he trembled as he forced himself to get comfortable and pulled Ford back into his arms.

Ford hummed at the warm embrace and snuggled back against Stan’s chest as his eyes fell closed. Stan’s body was warm and large, swollen with muscle and…was that a belly he could feel? Ford had always liked the sight of a big man with a big belly. Not that he had ever told anyone that. Not even Fiddleford who was the only male he’s liked that didn’t fit his usual taste. It must have been Fiddleford’s intelligence that lured him in.

“Thank you,” Ford murmured sleepily.

“N-no problem,” Stan stuttered. Big and nervous.

Ford couldn’t help but smile as he fell asleep. His husband was cuter than he originally thought.


	11. Restarting...Again

Ford groaned as he rolled over onto his back. His body was stiff from having slept in the same position all night and for some reason he felt a bit…cold. Ever so slowly he began to crack his eyes open to see why. Ford yelped and scrambled to pull the blanket above his breasts, now wide awake and embarrassed at their state. His nipples were high and erect, standing tall and proud from being exposed to the world. Ford, however, only felt shame and embarrassment. Those emotions only grew stronger when he remembered what he asked Stan to do last night. Was he _**crazy**_? Why on earth had he ever thought that it was a good idea to ask the man to hold him while he was butt naked and emotional like that? It was stupid! Stan could have easily taken advantage-Ford frowned to himself. Now that was going too far. Stan obviously respected him and would never touch him without permission. It’s why he apologized last night for undressing him and was so hesitant to hold him while they slept.

Ford sighed as he pushed himself up into a sitting position and held the blanket tightly over his chest. “Um, Stan? Are you around?” Ford called out timidly.

“Of course, prince Ford. Do you need something?” Stan asked.

“I just need you to answer a question for me,” Ford blushed as he licked his lips and gulped, “Did you happen to…to see my chest just now?”

“No, prince Ford. I’ve been keeping myself busy and avoiding looking at your body. I didn’t want to take advantage of you,” Stan replied.

Ford sighed in relief and smiled. “Thank you, Stan. You’re very considerate.”

“Anything to make you happy, prince Ford.”

The brunette couldn’t help but blush at those words. No one had ever wanted to make him happy before. He thinks that Fiddleford may have tried but nothing he had done had ever made Ford happy. Stan seemed to be doing that just by existing which was astonishing enough on it’s own.

“Stan…do we…would you happen to have, um, a change of clothes?” Ford asked.

“Oh! Uh, yeah. Let me go get it for you. Do you have a specific preference for anything or…?”

Ford paused, surprised that he was able to choose his own clothing for once. A thrill shot down his spin as a thought entered his mind, making his heart race. “Y-yeah. I want something a man would wear. And make it short. It feels like it’s going to be warm today,” Ford said, pulsing with excitement.

“Alright, I’ll be right back,” Stan said, another smile in his voice.

Ford smiled in return and began to ease back in his bed when a thought brought him back to life. “Wait! Stan!” Ford thought he was too late but only a few moments later Stan’s voice returned.

“Yes, prince Ford?” Stan asked curiously.

Ford sighed in relief. “Is there a way I can take a bath around here? I haven’t bathed in a long time and after the events of last night, I’m sure I need one,” Ford chuckled.

“Oh! I built a bath in the back for you since I highly doubted that you’d want to share one with me,” Stan chuckled, “It’s straight to the back and to your left. I’ll lay your new clothes for you just inside the doorway so I don’t disturb you.”

“Oh, okay. Thank you,” Ford said, his smile faltering.

He wrapped the blanket tightly around his body even though he was sure Stan was gone. He followed Stan’s directions to the bath and when he reached the the doorway he couldn’t help but marvel at its size. It wasn’t as large as the communal baths but for one inside a house it was still rather large. Ford tossed his blanket aside as he stepped into the heated bath house. He searched for the materials needed and found them all sitting against the wall next to-Ford groaned in relief at the sight of the toilets all lined up and ready to use. He was in dire need to piss. It’s what he gets for waiting so long. He rushed over to the first seat and quickly sat down. A small trickle escaped before everything came out in a loud rush. He moaned as the pain in his bladder disappeared as every last drop of urine escaped him.

“Fuck. You know you’ve been waiting too long when it feels good to piss,” Ford chuckled to himself.

Knowing that he was going to be cleaning himself in a few moments he disregarded wiping himself and lifted a large bucket from the floor and approached the pool, dipping it below the smooth surface of the water and filling it to the brim. He lifted the bucket over his head and dumped the water onto himself, frowning when he only got most of his body wet. This was much harder without helping the helping hands he was used to. He refilled the bucket and dumped more water on himself before setting the bucket upside down on the floor and sitting atop it. He picked up the mixture of pumice and ashes and smeared it over his skin liberally, covering every inch of skin with the dark mix. Next was the olive oil which he rubbed into his skin until he felt more dirty than clean. Then came the fun part. Ford picked up a curved piece of metal named strigil to scrape the muck from his skin, smiling when he saw the results. It took time to remove the muck but it was worth it to see his pale and pink skin return. He has started to get a tan there was so much dirt on him. It was rather humerous. After every last bit of the muck was done came his favorite part. He walked to the steps of the large heated bath and slowly stepped inside, sighing as the warm water caressed his tense body. He sank deep into the water until the lover half of his face sunk below the water. He plucked off his glasses and rested them on the stone edge so as to not have them damaged and made a satisfied groan. The water was sublime.

After a few minutes of soaking Ford had grown bored and began blowing bubbles in the water. Baths weren’t the same without other people in the room. Even if they didn’t speak to him, like the servants back home, it was still better to have another person there. The only way he could quench his loneliness was to-Ford blushed at his own thoughts. No. He couldn’t possibly ask Stan to join him. He had already asked for so much. He couldn’t do that to Stan. Stan also seemed rather…uncomfortable…around his naked body. Ford frowned at the thought. He glanced down at his body through the crystal clear water as doubt began to fill his mind. While he wished his body was stronger and more manly, he still thought that his body was quite attractive. He was built a bit rectangularly but his thighs were thick and shapely and his breasts were a polite size, being not too large but not too small. He was healthy and fit with a bit of chub clinging to his belly that most well fed, money toting people of the community had. He should appear attractive, but for some reason Stan seemed to evade looking at his body at every cost. It honestly kind of made him feel…

Ford’s eyes widened and his blushed once he realized what he had been thinking about. He splashed water on his face to ease the burning on his cheeks as he became ashamed of himself. All of these years he refused to be acknowledged for his beauty and now he was suddenly worried about being unattractive. How could he lose himself like that so easily? It was idiotic and stupid. He shouldn’t care about what his husband thought. And he didn’t.

Okay he totally did.

Ford moved to the edge of the bath and hoisted his body up to take a glance at his legs. His toes curled in shame as he suddenly became torn over the hair on his legs. Maybe he should find a way to get rid of the dark hairs…

“Ford? Are you in here?” Stan called out.

Ford let out a squeak and dived back under the water, hiding all of his body but his head from his husband.“Y-yeah I’m still in here,” Ford replied meekly.

“Oh good. I feared that I was gone for too long. I’m going to set your clothes outside, okay?” Stan asked.

“O-okay. Oh, wait! Before you go…could you do me a favor?” Ford asked.

“Of course. What do you wish for, my prince?” Stan asked, a smile in his voice once again. He smiled a lot.

“Would you mind staying with me? I get kinda lonely in long baths,” Ford said, cringing at his choice of words. It sounded like a cheap ploy to get Stan into bed. Something he definitely wasn’t aiming for.

Stan muttered something to himself before giving a cheerful reply, “Of course, what would you like is to do while you soak?” Stan asked.

Ford hadn’t expected to get this far.

“U-um, could you, uh, maybe you could play on your lyre?” Ford offered unsure.

Stan chuckled and Ford felt himself blush at the sound. “Of course I can. Luckily I already have it on hand. Do you have any requests?”

“Uh, I don’t know. Whatever songs you know, I guess,” Ford replied dumbly. Smooth. Real smooth.

“Heh, sounds like a smart plan,” Stan replied. There were a few moments of silence before Stan’s soft music began to play. Ford closed his eyes and lowered himself deeper into the water as he fell into a hypnotizing trance from Stan’s soft instrument. Stan’s melody was beautiful. It was gentle and sweet and carried Ford through the invisible story he created inside his head. Once that song ended another started, and another story was created. By the third song something began poking in his mind, urging him to open his mouth and sing. Which Ford didn’t know, nor the why, until a memory emerged from the depths of his brain. It was of his mother. A year before she fell ill and died. She was singing softly to a little Ford, the song fitting perfectly along with Stan’s melody.

“I know this song,” Ford murmured as a sad smile curled his lips, tears forming in his eyes.

“A little boy with golden wings  
Oh with such brazen he sings  
Of the power of love he wields  
But the lack of hearts he shields  
Cupid forgot that his job was to create love  
And soon the foolish little god  
Turned his brothers and sisters against one another  
And created chaos,” Ford sang lowly.

The music suddenly halted as Ford smiled to himself. “A weird song for a mother to sing to her child, right?” Ford chuckled.

Stan was silent for a few beats before he replied in a shaking voice, “Perhaps she was warning you. To teach you that love isn’t a toy and shouldn’t taken lightly,” Stan said in almost a whisper.

Ford’s brows furrowed. Stan sounded…odd. Almost solum. “Stan…are you okay?” Ford asked.

“I’m fine. It’s just…your voice is beautiful,” Stan said, his voice holding truth but also withholding something.

Ford blushed at the compliment and hid most of his face back under water. “It’s not that big of a deal,” Ford gurgled through the water.

“Truly, your abilities are amazing. Do you enjoy singing?” Stan asked.

“Uh, privately I do. I don’t sing often. I’m more focused on science,” Ford replied.

“Really? What kind of science?”

“Well…all of it. If it’s scientific I want to know it,” Ford chuckled. He could never pick a certain genre of science. They were all too interesting to him to just end up picking one.

“I’ll have to remember that,” Stan said.

Ford blushed and hid his face in the water again. No one had ever asked him about his interests before. Besides Fiddleford, that is. But even Fiddleford had his limits. Certain scientific subjects bored him and they never spoke about them. With Stanley, he could probably drone on and on and he would never get tired of listening.

“Prince Ford, I don’t mean to rush you, but are you hungry?” Stan asked.

As if called upon his stomach growled, yearning for food. “Surprisingly, yes. I guess I should get out,” Ford sighed. Without a word of warning he hoisted his body out of the bath, kneeling naked on the stone floor.

“I-I’m gonna go get some food ready for you. Something that will soak up your stomach acids and small so you don’t risk getting sick. I’ll let you know when it’s done,” Stan said before vanishing without another word.

Ford pursed his lips at Stan’s reaction. He really shouldn’t be upset that Stan passed his test. After all, he had kept his word and hasn’t touched or even so much as looked at his body. So there wasn’t really a risk of Stan taking advantage of Ford. That should have made him happy. And it did. But he also couldn’t help but feel a bit…snubbed? All his life he had been praised for his looks but now he wasn’t and it felt…odd. It almost made him feel insecure. It wasn’t that he wanted to be fawned upon for his looks he just…he wanted to know that he looked… _okay_.

Ford glanced down at his body and sighed. He couldn’t blame Stan for not liking it. It was a girl’s body struggling to pass for a man’s. He climbed to his feet and headed for the door, spotting a spare cloth Stan had brought him to dry himself off with. Ford bent down to retrieve it and glanced at his arms. They were far too thin. He needed more muscle if he was going to pass for a male. He glanced down at his chest. Under clothing his chest could easily pass for a man’s barrel chest, it was the waist that threw off his look. It was a little too curvaceous. If he gained a little weight he would fill out and possibly lose that girlish figure.

Ford sighed. None of that was ever going to happen anyways. He was never going to have the male body he wanted. No matter what he did he still had this womanly figure.

He finished drying off and pulled on the blue linen tunic, having one shoulder bare and the tunic short like a man would wear. Before walking out the door he turned back the retrieve his glasses and placed them on his face with a sigh.

Nothing would ever go the way he wanted it to, would it?


	12. Questions in the Dark

“Stan, are you there?” Ford called out.

The sun was long asleep, buried deep in the starry night sky and resting for another day, something Ford currently wasn’t doing. He decided to stay up and wait for his husband to ask him a question that had been eating away at his mind.

“Yes. My apologies for being late. But how come you are still awake?” Stan’s voice rumbled softly.

It wasn’t echoing like it did during the day. This voice wasn’t a projection, it was in person. Ford could practically feel his husband’s body in the room. Being alone in this mansion on the side of the mountain had made him hyper aware of other being’s existence. He swore he could feel Stan’s heartbeat deep within his chest cavity. The gentle vibrations from his foot steps. Every breath his lungs invited inside and then sent on their way. The sound of fingers combing through hair. The rustle of something behind his back. Ford’s curiosity was getting the better of him. He wanted to reach out and touch his husband. He wanted to see with his own hands what his husband looked like. Trace every dip and curve until he reached—Ford forced his thoughts to a halt as he blushed. Those weren’t scientific procedures he should be taking at the moment, if ever.

“Prince Ford? Are you okay?” Stan asked, his weight dipping the mattress and pulling the brunette from his thoughts.

“Y-yes, yes. I’m alright. Just…thinking,” he mumbled.

“Thinking? Do you mind if I ask about what?” Stan asked as he settled onto his side of the bed.

Ford swallowed as his heart drummed in his chest. He better fucking lie. “Uh, um, well, I was just wondering…what your…sexual orientation was,” Ford said tightly. Okay, not exactly a lie and a bit too close to the truth, but that will have to do.

“My…what now?” Stan snickered.

“I-I just…wanted to know what type of person you would sleep with. Or if you enjoyed sex at all,” Ford murmured in embarrassment. Why was he doing this to himself?

“My type, huh? Well, generally I don’t care too much for looks. I mean, sure I can appreciate a beautiful face, but if they don’t have a good loving heart in their body I can’t find them appealing. People who are intelligent and kind are the people I tend to look at. Not to say that I haven’t had a run in with a few morons,” Stanley chuckled.

“But who do you like…physically?” Ford whispered, his face growing hot. This was far too daring. What was he thinking?

“Physically? It doesn’t really matter to me. Although I have been with a numerous amount of brunette’s, but it is a common hair color,” Stan said with a shrug.

Ford should have accepted that. He should have hummed and fallen asleep and never speak of this night again. But he couldn’t. He needed to know. His whole body was desperate to hear the answer. He needed…he needed to know that he was…. “What about gender?”

Stan was quiet for a long time. Ford grew tense as his stomach rolled inside him. His nails clawed at cloth as anxiety urged him to peel his sweating skin away. He shouldn’t have asked. But he was a glutton for pain. He was a scientist. Ask every question needed for analysis, even if the question didn’t want to be answered.

“I’ve never had a problem with any gender. I’ve never been concerned about what is between a person’s legs. Mostly because what attracts me to a person is their personality, not their gender or their looks. Also, I’m smart enough to know how to make someone feel good in bed no matter what genitals they got,” Stan replied candidly.

“O-oh. I see,” Ford stuttered quietly. He continued to lay completely still, almost as if trying to mimic a piece of wood. Or a corpse. He could play one more naturally than the other. His performance would be even more realistic if he had a piece of wood to hit himself over the head with and actually became a corpse. He never knew he could be so desperate to escape embarrassment. Ford flipped stiffly onto his side and covered his face as it began to burn a bright crimson. What was he **_doing_**? How could he ask such personal questions? And ask them for such a selfish reason? It was such an idiotic thing to do and so shameful. He couldn’t believe that he put Stan on the spot like that.

But at the same time. A very small part of him rejoiced. Stan had given him a pure and true answer. And the answer delighted his heart and made it soar.

Such selfish actions. It was disgraceful. His father would be disgusted with him.

“Ford? Did I upset you?” Stan asked, the bed shifting and alerting Ford that his husband had moved onto his side.

Why was Stan worried about him? He had said nothing wrong that would—oh, his last comment. It was sexual. Stan tended to avoid making those kinds of remarks because he knew it was a sensitive subject for Ford. He was worried that what he said had upset him. Here he was being selfish, while his monster husband was being selfless. Ridiculous.

“No, I’m…I’m fine. Honestly. You shouldn’t worry about upsetting me,” Ford murmured as he lowered his hands from his face and crossed his arms.

“You keep telling me that, and yet I still don’t see the logic behind your words. Why wouldn’t I worry about offending you?” Stan asked.

“Because I’m your wife? What I say or feel doesn’t matter. I don’t understand why you care so much about what I say,” Ford retorted.

“Because…because I’m not a monster. Or, at least, I try not to be,” Stan said slowly, quietly as if he were finally voicing his thoughts for the first time.

Ford stared at the darkness, not knowing how to respond. How would one respond to that? He didn’t know anything about his husband. He couldn’t discredit anything he said about himself, although Ford desperately wanted too. He wanted to sooth this monster’s heart and bring out the good from within him. He wanted to see his husband thrive in peace. Although why Ford wanted such things he didn’t know.

“What about you?” Stan asked softly.

Ford jumped at the sound of his voice and his brows furrowed. “What about me, what?” he shot back.

“What do you like in your partners?” Stan replied.

Ford blushed when he realized what he set himself up for. He should have seen this coming, honestly. But here was the trick, should he tell Stan the truth? Stan did say that his partner’s gender didn’t matter to him, although homosexuality was normal for their culture. His gender being different from his body on the other hand, was different from the norm. Ford cringed at the thought of the things Stan would say. Despite those haunting thoughts, he bravely sucked in a deep breath and rolled onto his back, placing his arms rigidly at his sides.

“I-I like men. Only men. I’m homosexual,” Ford stuttered nervously. He could literally throw up all over again. And he really didn’t want to.

Stan chuckled beside him as the bed shifted again. He moved closer. “Homosexual, eh? Only ever been with men?” Stan asked.

Ford let out a relieved chuckled. “Only ever wanted to be with men.”

The two snickered together, Ford’s heart racing in his chest at the true happiness he felt in his heart. And his body was growing aware of how close they had become. But he had to sober up. Happiness doesn’t last.

“But…I have been with women before. Not by choice. It…it was by my father’s request,” Ford mumbled as he rubbed his arm. It wasn’t often that he was with other women, but it had happened. Each time was worse than the last. He had to ham it up so as not to upset the women and please his father, but he hated it. Despised it. Their touch made his skin crawl and he struggled to hold the bile in his throat. The first time he had slept with a woman he actually _didn’t_ hold the bile in his throat. His father had to lie about him being sick. And he was punished severely.

“I understand how that is. I was pressured into many romantic and sexual relationships because of my mother. She’s obsessed with image. She craves perfection. And as her son, I had to be everything she wanted and do everything she wanted. I can’t even grow out my hair the way I want to,” Stan scoffed darkly.

Ford stared into the darkness above him sadly. Even for a monster life was hard. Even a monster as strong as Stan dealt with these evils in the world. Ford closed his eyes and rolled over onto his side, blindly reaching through the dark until his fingertips came in contact with skin.

“P-Prince Ford?” Stan stammered.

“I’m sorry you have to go through that,” Ford murmured. His hand brushed along Stan’s soft skin, feeling coarse hairs tickle his palm as he searched what felt like Stan’s chest.

“I’m…I’m sorry that you had to go through what you did,” Stan replied slowly. His heart was thumping hard against Ford’s hand. Stan’s breath was ragged and scared and he seemed to think he should pull away, but unsure if he wanted to.

Ford slowly edged closer and closer, shifting across the bed inch by inch. Their feet touched first. Then their shins and their knees. Ford curled his arms under his head and squeezed under Stan’s head, molding against his husband’s body. “It’s not your fault,” Ford mumbled as he made himself comfortable. His husband was so warm and human-like, it was a nice feeling to have surround him. A feeling that only grew better when arms wrapped around him and held him close in a firm embrace.

“I promise that I’ll protect you,” Stan murmured as he hugged Ford close.

Ford smiled lightly and snuggled closer to his beloved. “I hope you can.”


	13. Labels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinda short chapter, sorry.

Sharing a bed with someone in a nonsexual way was the most peaceful and riveting thing Ford had ever experienced. Sadly the experience had to end.

“Prince Ford? Prince Ford? It’s in the middle of the afternoon and I think your stomach wants you to get up and eat. It’s been complaining for the last two hours,” Stan’s soft and distant voice spoke.

The sound of his voice pulled Ford from his sleep slowly. He smiled and stretched as the sun warmed his pale skin. His limbs trembled as he stretched, a satisfied moan falling from his lips as his muscles relaxed even further than before. That was the best sleep he’s ever had. No contest. However, when he opened his eyes his smile faltered. Stan was nowhere to be seen. He was alone again. At least in the physical sense. The smile disappeared altogether from his face as his eyes saddened. Last night had been so wonderful. Would he ever have that again?

“Prince Ford? Are you alright?”

Ford scowled and forced himself to sit up. “Why do you keep calling me a prince?” he grumbled as he scrubbed at his eyes.

“Uh…because you are one? Stanley replied, unsure of himself.

Ford rolled his eyes as he pulled his knees towards his chest while his mood quickly plummeted. “I have no right to call myself a prince. I only have the title by blood. I didn’t earn it. I don’t deserve it. So I shouldn’t be called a prince,” Ford said tartly.

They sat in silence once again. Ford was slowly growing tired of himself. He knew just how to destroy the mood with his temper. It was a wonder that Stan wasn’t sick of him yet like everyone else was. Despite himself, Ford realized that he was on the verge of tears at the thought. He was going to drive every last person away until he died, wasn’t he? No wonder people treated him like garbage.

“I…I know what that’s like,” Stan replied weakly, as if he didn’t want to confess, but needed to.

Ford lifted a brow and stared at the ceiling. “What do you mean?”

Stan seemed resistant to answering his question, but as usual, he did so anyway. “Let’s just say that, ah, that I have a very important…job…that gives me a lot of power, and I haven’t really used that power the way I should have. I don’t…I don’t deserve my title. But I still have it,” Stan said quietly and remorsefully.

Ford lowered his eyes and watched as his toes curled on the sheets. “Stan…who are you?”

The question hung in the air from a tight rope of tension. The world continued to move but they were frozen. A gentle breeze played with Ford’s tangled hair. A bird briefly landed on the bedroom floor and chirped at Ford before flying away with it’s family. Lucky bastard.

“Ford…I can’t…I can’t tell you that,” Stan said, voice cracking with poorly hidden emotion.

“Why not? I’m your wife, aren’t I?” Ford asked bluntly as he stretched his legs out before him.

“You’re my husband, not my wife. And I can’t tell you because I’m trying to protect you,” Stan replied urgently. He was on the defensive.

Ford’s heart fluttered at being called “husband” but he had to push those feelings aside. “Protecting me from what? What am I in danger of?” Ford demanded softly as he climbed to his feet, staring down the air around him.

“It’s nothing you should worry about. I can protect you. Don’t think about it,” Stan said, desperately trying to persuade Ford to see his way and forget.

“Tell me, Stan. What’s so _haunting_ and **evil** that you have to keep this a secret from me?” Ford’s face suddenly lost color and his knees began to shake as a thought crossed his mind. “Is it…is it my father?”

“No, no no no, you’re safe from him here. I promise you that he can’t touch you. I won’t let him even look at you. Trust me. I can protect you from him,” Stan’s voice murmured, filled with love and devotion and _truth_.

“Then who is it?” Ford asked, his brows furrowing in impatience.

“It’s…it’s not a who,” Stan murmured softly, his voice echoing, “it’s a what.”

Ford swallowed but continued to wear a brave face. “A monster?”

“Y-yes. In lamest of terms. A monster. A powerful one. One that would kill you if they knew that I was with you. Please, I’m doing this to keep you safe. You have to understand that,” Stan begged, his voice tight. He was about to cry.

“I don’t get it! Why would a monster want me?” Ford shouted.

“ _ **BECAUSE THE MONSTER IS MY MOTHER!**_ ” Stan bellowed, the very mountain shaking from the power of his voice.

Ford’s eyes widened as the columns swayed as dirt and rock rained down from the ceiling. His stomach became queasy as he struggled to stay on his feet but sighed in relief when the ground stilled.

“Ford…Ford I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to get so loud. Did I hurt you?” Stan asked, his voice small and scared.

“I’m fine. I’m a lot sturdier than I look,” Ford said as he brushed dirt from his clothes.

“Ford I’m so sorry. I-I didn’t mean to hurt you and I never would-.”

“Calm down. You only shook a mountain. But I need answers. Why is your mother after me?” Ford asked.

Stan’s reply wasn’t immediate, and it wasn’t worth the wait. “…I’m sorry. I…I can’t tell you anything. The less you know the safer you’ll be,” he whispered.

A sigh escaped Ford’s lips as he shook his head. “Fine. But don’t think that I’ve dropped this,” Ford warned.

“You never really do,” Stan chuckled wearily.


	14. Days and Nights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short one, but it's good and fluffy.

Days passed. Maybe weeks. Or even months. Ford had lost track. For once in his life, he was enjoying being alive. He was, dare he say, _happy_ with living with his monstrous husband. He honestly hadn’t known that word was even in his vocabulary, much less that it applied to him. But he was happy. And he owed it all to Stan.

Their days were spent more peaceful than they originally started. They spoke fondly of poets and authors and shared their favorite writings to one another. Sometimes they even read aloud to each other when the other was too tired to read or was busy with something else. They scrutinized famous plays. Criticized and praised art they loved. Stan played music for Ford, introducing him to all of their beautiful sounds and whimsy, broadening his taste in each instrument. The lyre was still by far his favorite. It was beautiful and simple and elegant all at the same time. And bit by bit he was learning how to play it. Stan had been right. He was a natural at playing the instrument thanks to his extra fingers.

But the most memorable moments during the day were when they spoke of science. Ford loved teaching his husband about the wonders of the world. He loved explaining how things functioned and came to be. He loved sharing his theories with someone willing to listen, someone new and different. And he loved the gifts Stan showered him with because of it. Normally he despised receiving gifts from other because they only wanted something in return and the gifts always went to his father in the end. But Stan gave him gifts that have meaning. Tools that he could use in his research. Books that he could record his findings in. Gifts that could support and encourage his future. He would be lying if he said he hadn’t cried.

That’s what he liked about Stan. He was encouraging and supportive and caring. More than his father ever was. More than even Fiddleford was. In fact, Ford had found himself so at home with his mysterious husband that he never thought of his past life anymore, and when he did, he never grew sad or longing. That life was in his past and he could never have been happier about that.

He was finally free to be himself.

He was finally treated like a human being. Like a _scientist_.

He was finally loved.

And he was finally beginning to understand what that word meant.

The nights were spent in a more…physical level than the days. The continued to speak, but it was only about things weighing down on their souls. They mainly communicated through touch. It took a long time for Stan to understand that Ford wanted to be this close to him, but now that he wasn’t so scared of hurting Ford, it was almost perfect.

Ford’s hands brushed over Stan’s shoulder and slid down his bulging biceps (that he very much enjoyed touching), stopping at his elbow and gently rubbed the skin with his thumb. “Stan…how many people have you been with?” he murmured before pulling Stan’s arm over his own shoulder and snuggling deeper against him.

“W-what?” Stan asked, taken aback by the question.

Ford chuckled and began stroking the hair on his husband’s chest with a light smile on his face. “How many people have you been with?” he repeated.

He heard Stan audibly swallow and snickered at his nervousness.

“U-um, well…a lot? Of people? I, ah, don’t know an exact number. And it wasn’t sex j-just for sex! I mean…i-it mostly was for sex, I guess. Most of the time I didn’t want it. N-not that I don’t enjoy sex! I just…well, it’s complicated,” Stan muttered.

Ford giggled and snuggled up closer to his husband. “I’ve been with a lot of people too. Though not by choice. The sheer number of them used to haunt me but now…I don’t have to count anymore,” Ford said with a smile as his voice hitched.

Large arms tightened around his body and pulled him into a firm embrace which caused a chuckle to fall from his lips as he resisted crying in relief.

“I told you that I was going to protect you,” Stan said.

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t be so full of yourself Mr. Macho,” Ford teased as he punched his husband’s chest lightly.

Stan’s chest vibrated with a deep laugh as Ford spread his fingers wide over the monster’s skin. He had no idea what his partner looked like, but he didn’t feel like a monster to him, however there was no possible way he was human. The normal homosapien had physical limitations. Stan, however, didn’t seem to follow the same rules. Ford’s hand crept along Stan’s skin slowly. He felt every dip and curve and every mole and mark on his skin. He felt it every night, but he still couldn’t visualize his beloved. His fingers traveled further up his neck and paused when he reached what felt like a jawline. “Stan? Is it alright if I…?” Ford asked.

A warm hum emitted from Stan as he squeezed Ford closer. “Of course, go ahead,” he replied.

Ford stretched his arm out further and began tracing his features with his fingertips. High cheekbones. Strong jaw. Thick eyebrows and a large nose. Young. Possibly around his own age. He felt human at least. As far as he knew, anyways.

“You feel handsome,” Ford said as his fingers ran down his cheeks again.

Stan chuckled and the skin warmed under Ford’s fingertips. “Thank you,” he said.

“Handsome enough to kiss,” Ford murmured as he brushed his fingers over Stan’s soft lips. Definitely kissable.

Stan became stiff and nervous. “F-Ford…are you sure-.”

Ford pressed his fingers against Stan’s lips and shifted in his arms until they were face to face and breathing in the same space. “You think too much. That’s my job,” Ford said with a smirk as he leaned in.

Their first kiss was more than he could ever dream for a kiss to be. It was soft and gentle, yet sweet and sensual. It didn’t last more than a few seconds, but it only took half that time for them to dive into their second kiss. Ford’s heart drummed in his chest as their kisses grew longer with passion and desperation. He never would have thought in his lifetime that he would enjoy being kissed and would enjoy kissing someone back. He never thought that his husband would mean so much to him.

Now it was hard to imagine his life without his beloved.


	15. Touch

For the first time ever Ford felt like a teenager. He had never understood how teenagers could ever be so distracted from learning and sharing knowledge, but now he understood. His hands became clammy and his grip unsteady. He stumbled over his words as if they were familiar when in fact they were some of the first words he ever said. His interest in studying important research plummeted when Stan was around. Ford could only focus on his husband. The sound of his rough voice. His soft breathing. The loving tone Stan used when he spoke to him…

All Ford could think about during the day is how he couldn’t wait for the sun to fall. For the both of them to be together in a room, both in flesh and bone. He fantasized daily about how they would touch one another. How they would be close to each other. How they would inevitably kiss. How their lips would fit perfectly together. How their kisses would grow in heat. Tongues tasting. Teeth clicking. Lips smacking. Moans rumbling deep in their throats. No wonder their country was so sex obsessed. With the right person, it was addictive.

Ford found himself wanting more. He had dreams about Stan’s touch. His large hands running over his body. Those wonderful lips laying kisses on his skin. His tongue creating cold trails and tasting his sweat. Their heartbeats thrashing against each other's chest. Their breath rolling over each other's sweat drenched faces. The kind of dreams that caused him to cross his legs and turn red as he tried his hardest to avoid Stan.

An impossible task.

He was nowhere near prepared to ask Stan to engage in...something like that with him. He wasn’t even sure Stan would want to be that physical with him. Kissing was one thing, sex was another.

Although...the other night he did feel _something_ pressed against his thigh. However it could have easily been something else, but Ford was pretty sure he knew what that felt like due to all of his...experience.

The question “would he, wont he?” hovered over Ford’s head for days. He tried to up the ante once, but Stan had pulled away and claimed to be tired and almost immediately fell asleep. Which was a little insulting to Ford's ego. Was he not attractive enough? Were his parts not what Stan really wanted? Was he...disgusting...because of all that had been done to him? No matter the answer, Ford needed to know.

It was that night Ford gained the courage to ask his questions. They had spent the day playing music, serenading one another with their talents until the sun fell and Stan emerged with the stars. Instead of being curled up on the bed and ready for sleep, Ford sat on the edge of the bed and waiting for his husband. He could only see a faint outline of his beloved but it was more than enough to make him smile.

“Ford? You aren’t in bed?” Stan asked as he slowly approached his husband.

“Not tonight. I had a...theory...I wanted to test,” Ford said as he stood up.

Stan chuckled in disbelief. “A theory? This late at night? Can’t it wait until tomorrow? At least one of us has to sleep,” Stan replied.

Ford smirked as he slowly approached Stan and gently wound his arms around his beloved’s neck. “How about _neither_ of us sleep and we try something _new_?” Ford purred.

“What do you me- _hmph!_ ” Stan was interrupted by Ford’s lips pressing against his, tossing the question from his mind.

Stan moaned, the sound shooting a shiver down Ford’s spine, and took hold of Ford’s hips and pulled him closer. Over time their shyness towards each other had ebbed, making it easier for Ford to part his lips and encourage Stan to do the same by nibbling on his plump bottom lip.

“Cheeky tonight, aren’t you?” Stan chuckled.

Ford smiled in return and leaned in for another kiss. He hummed in pleasure as the motion deepened. His body buzzed with heat as he felt Stan’s tongue stroke his own. Their teeth clicked as their passion turned the kiss into a sloppy and wet mess. Their bodies were flush against one another as they clung to each other, fearing that if they separated they would implode. Or maybe that was only the way Ford thought. When his hand trailed down Stan’s body and neared a certain _personal area_ Stan took hold of his wrists and pushed him away.

“Ford, what are you doing?” Stan asked.

“I figured you’d know what I was doing,” Ford said as he tried to move in for another kiss, but was once again rejected.

“I know _what_ you’re doing. What I want to know is _why_?” Stan replied firmly.

Ford scowled as every trace of happiness fell from his face. “Because you're my husband and we are _supposed_ to do this.”

“What? No we don’t. Ford you don’t owe me anything. You don’t have to have sex with me,” Stan paused and suddenly pulled Ford into his arms, “I’m so sorry, Ford. I didn’t mean to make you think that you have to sleep with me. I won’t touch you ever again. I promise-.”

“Oh **stop** with your promises!” Ford snapped as he struggled out of Stan’s grasp, “You didn’t make me think or do anything! I _like_ _it_ when you touch me! I _enjoy_ it when we kiss! I get **_excited_ ** when we do those things! Of course I want sex! Why would you think that I don't?”

“W-well...you just went through a lot of things with your fa-.”

“Oh shut up. You don’t get to say what is and isn’t triggering for me. I want this but...but you don’t seem like you do. Is...is there something wrong with me?” Ford asked as his voice cracked.

“No no no! Y-you’re such a wonderful person and you’re breathtakingly beautiful. I just...I want us to be careful,” Stan muttered.

“Careful? Why? I’m not some weak-.”

“ _ **I know**_ you aren’t weak. I want to be careful...because of me,” Stan croaked.

Ford’s eyes widened. That wasn’t the answer he was expecting. “What do you mean?”

“I’m a _**monster**_ , Ford. I’ve _**used** _ people like you before. I’m no better than the people who touched you without your permission,” Stan hissed as he pulled away.

Ford’s heart stopped as sweat formed on his cold skin. This was news to him. “W-what?”

“I slept with people to get things from them. I didn’t treat them right, Ford. And I...I don’t ever want to do that to you. I want to wait. I want to...do this when I feel it’s right. When I feel like...like I’m not using you. I don’t want you to become one of those people I used. I don’t want to use you. I would kill myself if I ever-.”

A cold hand pressed against Stan’s chest and caused Stan to stop mid-sentence. Ford’s fingers tightened on the fabric across Stan’s chest, the threads popping from his hard grasp. The next thing Stan knew he was in Ford’s arms and receiving a powerful hug.

“I’m sorry, Stan. I was being so selfish,” Ford murmured. Within seconds Ford felt Stan’s large arms hold him tight as he let out an emotional laugh. “You have nothing to be sorry about. I’m sorry I’m not able to fulfill your wishes,” Stan said.

“You can still cuddle, right?”

“Well...yes.”

“Then we’re going to be just fine,” Ford said with a smile as he placed a kiss on his husband’s heart.


	16. Jealousy

Perfect teeth gnashed in anger as brown eyes glared at grey walls. Carla was **boiling** with rage. Yet she had no one to take it out on. Her toes curled on the cold floor as she hugged her knees to her chest. Ever since Psyche had left, all of the attention that had been previously been on her little sister, was now on _her_.

“Little _brat_ ,” Carla hissed as her nails tore through her expensive clothes. Her father wasn’t going to appreciate that.

“Carla? Carla where are you?” a familiar voice beckoned.

Carla sank deeper into the corner she hid in. Of all the people in this house **that man** was the last one she wanted to see. She would rather see her own _father_ instead of him.

“Carla? There you are. Why are you hiding like this?” Fiddleford asked as he crouched down to her level.

“Why do you even care?”

“Because you’re my wife. Now why are you hiding your face from me?”

“Why do you need to see my face?”

“Because I know you’re hiding something from me. Now look at me.”

The woman sighed to herself and grumbled a few curses before she lifted her head from her arms but still avoided Fiddleford’s eyes. She heard his lungs suck in a sharp breath and scowled. The last thing she wanted was drama.

“Your eye…did your father do that to you?” Fiddleford asked quietly.

“What does it matter? I’m only a filler wife for you. I’m none of your concern.”

“What are you talking about?”

Carla snorted darkly as she grinned to herself. “Clueless. Just leave me alone and go to bed. I’ll join you in a few minutes,” she growled.

Fiddleford studied his wife for a few moments and sighed as he climbed back onto his feet. “Fine. See you in a bit,” he grumbled as he turned his back to her and disappeared.

Carla’s fingers tore through her toga with a loud _rip_ as her eyed widened while staring at the wall. She thought she had forgotten what it was like to have Filbrick’s hands on her body but after just one night all the memories came rolling back in. Every mark and stain that had been placed on her skin arose once more along with the disgust and self-loathing. If only Psyche hadn’t disappeared, she wouldn’t be under her father’s fire. But after going through that all over again…she knew that Psyche had better have been dead, otherwise Carla would kill her in the most painfully way possible.

A smile twisted on Carla’s face as she imagined such a scene. She began to crave the thought. And soon she wanted to see it for real. She wanted to see every blister, maggot, and drop of blood smeared across the rocky side of the mountain.

“I think it’s time visit my sister and pay my respects,” Carla growled with a dazzling smile.


	17. Soaking

“Alright, I got a question for you,” Ford said with a smug grin as he walked into the bath house.

“Oh? And what would that be?” Stan asked with humor in his voice.

“If a tree falls and no one else is around to hear it, does the tree still make a sound?” Ford questioned as he began to strip himself free of his clothing.

“Uh, yeah? Everything still makes a noise even if people aren’t around to hear it,” Stan replied slowly, unsure of himself.

“But if no one is around to hear it, how can you be so sure?” Ford said with a huge grin. His clothing fell away from his body and he shivered at the cold air. He needed to get into the bath quickly.

“W-well it wouldn’t make sense for something to lose it’s sound just because no one is around!” Stan stuttered in a frustrated tone.

Ford giggled and slipped into the bath, moaning at the feeling of the hot water lapping at his tense muscles. “Ugh, I need a massage,” Ford snickered as he rubbed his shoulder.

“I...I could give you one if you want,” Stan offered quietly.

Ford blinked. “You mean...you’re going to take on your physical form to give me a massage? In broad daylight?” He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little excited. His husband’s true form was a big mystery he had been trying to solve for months now. He was desperate to see him.

“Well, yes and no. You’ll have to be blindfolded. I can’t let you see me,” Stan replied solemnly.

Ford pursed his lips before he shrugged and set his glasses aside. “Do whatever you need to. I’m not passing up a massage,” Ford said as he settled in the water. He also wasn’t going to give up the chance of having Stan’s hands on his body.

Stan chuckled and there was a soft shuffling behind Ford until he felt a soft cloth wrap over his eyes. He shivered when a warm breath ghosted over his skin and caused bumps to push through his skin. Hot and calloused hands carefully laid down on his shoulders and began to gently rub the tension from his muscles. Ford moaned as he hunched slightly from the wonderful feeling.

“Fuuuuck don’t you ever stop. That feels so _good_ ,” he groaned.

Stan chuckled nervously and then gulped as he continued to touch Ford’s naked shoulders while the prince was in pure bliss. Stan’s hands were strong and firm, but mindful in their movements that he was sure he could easily fall asleep right there right now. He wouldn’t mind it at all.

Their was a faint _crack_ and the two jumped as the pin holding up Ford’s hair suddenly broke and fell into the water. “Well that’s annoying,” Ford tsked as he brought his hands out of the water to gather his hair. It had grown a lot since he first started living here. It brushed his shoulders and sent shivers down his spine which is why he usually tried to keep it up, but now he merely pulled it out of Stan’s way and waved him on to continue. “Keep going. I’m not gonna stop you,” he said.

A chuckle buzzed from behind as Stan continued his work. “Maybe tonight, if you like, I could give you a full body massage. Feels like you might need it,” he joked.

Ford grinned as he snickered. “Keep making jokes. I’m totally going to make you do that tonight.”

“Heh, it’s no problem, my love,” Stan murmured as he pressed a kiss to the back of Ford’s neck

Ford wished that Stan had been wearing the blindfold, not him. He could feel how brightly he was blushing and how broadly he was smiling. Stan could probably even feel his heart hammering in his chest. He never expected that he would have this. Never in a million years. But he was so glad he had it.


	18. Serving You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh, I know some of you read for the story's sake and don't care for stancest, so this is an nsfw warning for you guys.

It came out of the blue. At least, that’s what Ford had thought. Stan had been quiet all day. He spoke here and there, but was remotely quieter than he usually was. Ford hadn’t thought much about it until he asked for the monster’s opinion but received a brief hum or generic reply. At first Ford had been hurt by being brushed off until he realized that his husband was distracted. Something inside his head had been gnawing away at his mind and Ford didn’t find out until that night.

It was a colder night than usual. Goosebumps scattered across Ford’s skin as he shivered while undressing himself. He was thankful for the cold air, though. The days have been hot and taxing. It was nice to feel a chill for once.

“Ford? I have a question I want to ask you,” Stan said, his voice inches from Ford’s ear.

Ford bristled at the feeling of someone’s breath crawling down his spine and jerked around. “Sh-sheesh, Stan! You can’t just sneak up on me like that!” Ford stuttered as he self consciously scrambled to cover his body with the removed toga. “W-what’s wrong?”

Ford watched as his husband's outline grew closer. He was acting odd. Stan usually _avoided_ his naked body. Now he could feel Stan’s breath on his skin.

“I wanted to see if I could do something for you,” Stan said.

“Do something for me? Like what?” Ford asked as his curiosity outshone his insecurities.

“Like...like getting you off,” Stan coughed.

It was a good thing the room was so dark. His face was on fire.

“W-wait, y-you really want to…? I thought you said you wanted to wait,” Ford stuttered, confused yet with growing excitement.

“Well...I’m not ready to go all the way. I just wanted to do something for you. Something to help you out,” Stan replied as he cleared his throat.

“Help me out? What do you mean?” Ford asked with a raised brow.

“I’ve, ah, I’ve walked in on you...touching yourself a few times. I usually just hear you because you're pretty loud but sometimes I’ll walk in and find you sp-spread out on the bed, um, masturbating,” Stan stumbled with his words and grew red himself. It was unusual for him to be so embarrassed by something he’s done over and over and over again, but Ford was different. Ford mattered to him. Ford’s happiness is more important than sex ever will be.

“I-I...I-I don’t know what to say. I-I’m not used to people asking me if I wanted s-sexual favors. I-I don’t know what to say,” Ford sputtered as his hands moved to cup his burning cheeks. This was so embarrassing. Not only had Stan _heard_ him touching himself, but he had also _seen_ _it_. This was probably the most embarrassing moment of his life.

“Well, you can say yes and I’ll help you get off tonight, or you can say no and we’ll just stay up talking until we fall asleep,” Stan offered.

Ford bit his lip as he thought each option over, but there was no use in doing so. He knew which one he wanted. “I-I want you...t-to get me off,” he whispered as his face filled with more blood.

“Okay. Okay...um, l-lay down on the bed,” Stan stuttered, trying to sound confident and in charge, but successfully failing to do so.

Ford swallowed and did as he was told. He pushed the blankets off their shared bed and laid down on top. With a shaking sigh he slowly peeled the toga from his body and set it on the floor. He was frozen in the cold air, but he was strangely hot. Sweat dripped off his skin as his whole body began to blush at the vulnerable position he was in. Maybe...maybe this was all a joke. Maybe Stan just wanted to pull a prank on him. After all, what could Stan really do to get him off? Ford closed his legs as tears gathered in his eyes. He _prayed_ that this wasn’t some cruel joke. He might even get sick if it was.

Before Ford could begin the panic the edge of the bed suddenly dipped down from (hopefully) Stan’s weight. Hands took hold of Ford’s feet and gave them a gentle squeeze before they traveled up his legs. Ford’s breath hitched at the feeling. Those large, calloused hands gently massaging their way up his leg, taking gentle care of his sensitive thighs, it didn’t take long for the first moan to fall from Ford’s lips. Stan stilled at the sound and then suddenly his hands were on Ford's hips and he yanked his body down to the edge of the bed. Ford yelped and threw his hands down to cover himself as his heart raced in his chest.

“Hey now, I can’t do anything if you hide from me,” Stan murmured. He manipulated Ford’s legs until they rested over his shoulders, causing Ford to blush in understanding.

 _Oh_.

 _That’s_ what he’s gonna do.

“St-Stan are you sure you want to do that?” Ford asked as his fingers dug into the mattress.

“Hmm, positive,” Stan hummed.

Ford heard a wet _pop_ and blushed, knowing undoubtedly that Stan had covered his fingers with his own saliva. This was really happening. Stan was going to touch him sexually. He might pass out.

Then he felt it. Fingers gently spreading the lips of his privates apart, and one lone finger slowly rubbing his clit. Ford’s breath caught in his throat as his fingers tightened on the thin mattress below. Stan’s finger pressed around the clit until he found which side was more sensitive and began to stroke it back and forth, back and forth. While the movement was simple, it was driving Ford crazy. He whined and squirmed as the heat began to build in his body, but he was desperate for more.

“St-St-Stan...p-please. I-I need more,” Ford whimpered.

Stan hummed in acknowledgment but suddenly his fingers pulled away and his arms curled around Ford’s thighs. The prince was confused, but only for a moment when he felt a tongue lick along the lips of his cunt.

“Sh-shit! A-are you serious?” Ford stammered, his heart hammering in his chest.

Stan chuckled and urged Ford to spread his legs, giving the monster better access to what he needed. Ford cried out as Stan’s tongue slipped between the lips and began tasting every last bit of his skin, pausing only to suck and lavish on the clit.

“H-holy...shit!” Ford hissed through gritted teeth as he began to shake. No one had ever done this for him before. All those times he would choke on some jerk’s dick none of them had ever thought to please _him_ like this. And just when he thought it couldn’t get any better, it did. Stan’s tongue pressed and prodded at Ford’s slick hole and pushed in, every inch of his tongue stroking and squirming and _tasting_ the prince. Ford cursed and moaned as his back arched off the bed and his thighs closed on Stan’s head. This was greater than anything he had ever felt before. It was so _amazing_. He felt himself slightly stretch from Stan’s thick tongue and trembled when his tongue rubbed him in all the right ways.

“F-fuck! St-Stan! I-I can't-hah!” pleasure shot through his spine and one of his hands shot down to Stan’s head, his fingers yanking hard on thick locks of hair.

Stan moaned at the tug on his hair and pushed his tongue deeper, as deep as it would go as his thumb began to play with Ford’s clit. Ford let out a drawn out curse as he jerked his hips, silently demanding for more. His husband chuckled and pulled back, causing Ford to growl in annoyance.

“Why the hell are you stopping?” Ford snapped.

Stan laughed as he pushed Ford higher onto the bed and settled between his legs. “Because I have something much bigger for you,” he purred.

Ford’s eyes widened. There’s no way...Stan wouldn’t be willing to do that. Right?

Ford wasn’t given any time to think when lips suddenly appeared on his and he was swept into a passionate kiss. Stan’s clothes brushed over Ford’s sensitive and perky nipples, causing him to gasp into their kiss. Stan smirked and pulled Ford’s hand from the bed and pressed it against the prince’s own breast. Ford blushed and whined into the kiss when he understood what Stan wanted him to do. He began massaging his own breast and pinched the pink nipple, causing pleasure onto himself as he rocked against Stan’s thigh. But it wasn’t enough.

“Stan! Stan I need more!” Ford gasped as they paused in their kiss to breathe.

“Don’t worry, my love. I can take care of you,” Stan murmured.

Suddenly there was a familiar shape, a _finger_ , pressed at his entrance slick with olive oil. Ford’s whole body turned red as the finger pressed inside, stretching him farther than Stan’s tongue did, further than his own fingers ever had. Before he could even take a breath a second finger was added Ford became speechless. He let out cries of pleasure as he moved his hips to impale himself deeper on Stan’s digits. He could feel how easy it was for Stan to thrust those two fingers in and out of him. He was so wet and desperate for this. And it was more than he could have ever imagined. Stan’s fingers expertly stretched him until he could take four fingers. Each digit working together to hit that perfect spot and give him enough friction to make him buzz with lust and pleasure. Their kisses were hot and wet and it was becoming nearly impossible to breathe. He cursed and screamed as he thrashed with pleasure. His hands pulled on Stan’s hair and clawed at his skin as he arched his back, struggling to bring Stan closer to him as his hand picked up speed. His thrusts was rough and powerful but gentle enough to have Ford begging for more.

“St-Stan! Stan! Fuck! I’m going to cum! Fuck yes! Right there! Rightthererightthererightthere!” Ford screamed.

Stan silenced his babbling with a rough kiss as his fingers pushed in harder and deeper, curling at just the right angle.

Ford screamed, his back arching off the bed as lightening rushed through his body as he came. Stan moaned as Ford tightened around his fingers and moaned again as he found a hot stream soaking his hand, arm, and bed. He continued to thrust his fingers into Ford and smiled at the prince’s moans as he twitched and shook with each wave of pleasure as he continued to ejaculate, squirting uncontrollably.

After a few final thrusts Stan finally pulled away and helped Ford lay back comfortably on the bed.

“Holy...shit,” Ford gasped, trying to come down from his high.

Stan chuckled and wiped the drool from Ford’s face and settled beside him.

“Glad I could help,” he said honestly.

“I...I’ve never...I’ve heard of girls that could do _that_ ,” Ford moved his foot to touch the large puddle he left in the mattress and shivered, “But I’ve never done it myself. That was...that was amazing.”

Stan chuckled and brushed the hair out of Ford’s face.

“Well, if you ever want it again, all you have to do is ask,” he murmured.

Ford blinked and rolled over onto his stomach and looked down at his husband's outline.

“Stan? Could we...could we do it now?” he asked quietly.

Stan laughed and brought the prince in for a kiss.

“Of course, my love. How ever many times you want,” he whispered against Ford’s lips.


	19. Calloused Hands

Ford bit his lip as he shivered from the cold night air on his naked body. While the night was cold, his body felt _hot_. Ever since that first night of their sexual activity, they had gone a bit _wild_ with their lust. They still haven’t gone all the way, much to Ford’s chagrin, but he didn’t question it. He knew that Stan needed time and Ford didn’t mind giving it to him. He knew what it was like to be pressured into a sexual situation and he didn’t want to do that to his husband. But Stan still enjoyed giving _him_ pleasure. Bit by bit Stan collected a list of things Ford liked in bed and was continuing to find new things every night. Ford was embarrassed by how much got him off, and with that, the _many types of things_ that got him off. He honestly should be ashamed of all the things that could make him reach orgasm but Stan endorsed every single one of them without question, so Ford wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“You ready?” Stan murmured.

Ford nodded eagerly as he rubbed his thighs together and bit his lip.

“Stick out your chest, darlin’,” Stan purred as he sank down to his knees.

Ford licked his lips and did as told, puffing out his chest and awaiting for his husbands next move. It didn’t take long for him to feel it. Two calloused hands cupping his breasts. His fingers massaging and tugging on his chest. A thumb brushing a pert nipple. An excited gasp fell from Ford’s lips. He wasn’t used to people treating his breasts so kindly. Some just liked to be rough, other’s liked to mock his gender. Stan, however, made sure that Ford was enjoying it. Which he was.

“Hnnngh! Just like that, baby. Oh that feels so good,” Ford purred as Stan softly pinched his nipples. Ford bit his lip and smirked as he combed his fingers through Stan’s hair. “Take one into your mouth. Suck on it.”

Stan followed the order and took Ford’s right nipple into his mouth and began lavishing it. Licking and sucking the rosy bud until Ford moaned.

“Fuck yeah…bite it and suck harder,” Ford groaned.

Stan chuckled and did as he was told and munched down on Ford’s nipple, sucking it between his teeth to cause just the right amount of pressure.

Ford moaned and began petting Stan’s head as he trembled under his touch. “G-good job. Th-this feels so wonderful. Want this - _hah_ \- every night,” Ford whispered.

Stan pulled away with a gentle _pop_ and a laugh. “You want this every night?”

“Yes, please!” Ford cried as he rocked his hips forward with need.

“Heh, I’ll see what I can do, my love,” Stan said with a kiss.

Ford had never enjoyed being sexually intimate with someone before. If this is what it felt like, he _did_ want it every night. And he wanted to pay Stan back for making him happy.


	20. The Right Time

Ford had never known what love meant until now. He had fooled himself into believing that he loved Fiddleford. He pretended that his siblings cared for him. He lied to himself about loving who he is. But things have changed. The wool shrouding his vision has been torn away. He’s felt what real love is. He felt it when he spoke to the Wind, who is now a wonderful, although difficult, friend. He felt it when he woke up in the morning with the sun stroking his skin. He felt it when he heard Stan’s wonderful music. He felt it when Stan listened to his stories. When Stan took care of him. When Stan praised him. When Stan pulled him into his arms. He knew what love meant, and he was so happy to have it. He never wanted his old life back. This was the life he wanted. The life he _deserved_. If he were to ever part with Stan, he could easily parish.

“Ford? Are you doing okay? Yer thinkin’ a little hard there,” Stan said.

Ford blinked down at his empty plate and blushed as he chuckled in embarrassment. “Sorry, I got lost in my own thoughts,” he said as lifted the used napkin from his lap and set it on the table.

“Sounds dangerous,” Stan joked, a shining smile and a boisterous chuckle in his voice.

Ford smiled broadly as his heart swelled and skipped a beat. He loved Stan so much. He wanted this to last forever.

“I can clean things up if you want to get ready for bed. I’ll be with you shortly,” Stan said with another smile in his tone.

Ford blinked and turned his head to stare out of the side of the mountain, his eyes widening in shock. The sun was already going down. The day had gone by so fast. “Um, yeah. I’ll go ahead and get ready,” Ford said, still amazed that he had lost track of time so easily.

As he walked to his, no, _their_ room he couldn’t help but feel embarrassed at himself. Ford cupped his cheeks as he blushed, again. He spent all day thinking about Stan. He had been so caught up in it that the _whole day_ went by and he didn’t even notice. He wasn’t sure if it was a good or a bad thing. Of course, Stan was his husband so it made sense that he would think about him.

Ford sighed when he realized that Stan was once again on his mind but resigned himself to his fate as he entered their room. Ford thoughtlessly peeled the clothes from his body, thankful to have them off. The summer heat was getting to him. As he let his clothes fall to the floor he debated on whether or not to actually put on any more clothes. He shrugged and slipped into bed naked, a smile curling in his lips as he sighed in satisfaction.

“Comfy?”

Ford jumped and then giggled at his own reaction. “You like sneaking up on me, don’t you?” he joked.

“Maybe,” Stan replied as the bed began to shift.

Instead of Stan shifting over to his side of the bed, Ford felt his husband crawling right up to him until they were chest to chest and face to face. Ford smirked as he felt heat bubble under his skin.

“You seem to be feeling a bit cheeky too,” he purred.

Stan chuckled in the darkness and Ford closed his eyes as he felt Stan’s hot breath roll over his face.

“Maybe just a bit. But I have good reason,” Stan as his voice took on a singing tone.

“Oh? What would that be?” Ford asked.

“I’m ready.”

Ford blinked in the darkness in confusion. Ready? Ready for what?

“Ready? Ready for what?”

Stan snickered and rocked his hips down on Ford’s thigh, grinding down on the thick flesh. “Take a wild guess,” Stan replied smokily.

Honestly Ford should have been embarrassed by how long it took him to realize what Stan meant. Especially since he finally pieced everything together when he felt Stan’s cock hardening on his thigh.

“O-oh. Oh! OH! Y-you’re ready for sex!” Ford said in revelation. Unfortunately he grew too excited and when he sat up, he knocked his head against Stan’s, causing both of them to yelp and groan in pain.

“Okay, yeah, I was, but now I got a massive headache,” Stan grunted.

“I’m sorry! I just…I was surprised. I didn’t think you would ever…y’know,” Ford mumbled as he rubbed his throbbing nose.

A soft chuckle vibrated in Stan’s throat and suddenly Ford found himself pressed against Stan’s chest with thick arms holding him tight and close. “Well, I’m ready now, but the question is, are you?” Stan asked as he slowly laid Ford back on the bed, placing a soft kiss on Ford’s wounded nose.

He must have a sunburn because the heat radiating off of Ford’s face was blindingly hot. Sweltering, even. Stan probably felt second hand embarrassment right now. “O-of course I’m ready! I’ve drea-I mean…y-yeah. I’m ready.” Okay, Stan is _definitely_ feeling second hand embarrassment now.

Stan snickered once again as Ford felt his husband press against his form and rolled his hips, grinding his clothed body against Ford’s naked skin. “Were you about to say that you’ve dreamed about this?” Stan teased.

Sweat beaded on Ford’s brow as his eyes scattered in every direction. “N-nooooOOOOOoooo?” he squeaked.

There was a second of silence. Then the blanket on the bed vanished and Ford gasped as the cold night air devoured his sensitive skin.

“Come on, don’t lie to me. Did you have dirty dreams about your husband?” Stan purred. His hand slowly slid down from Ford’s shoulder to his elbow , transferring his hand to the prince’s waist and tickling the skin.

Tears sprung into Ford’s eyes as he struggled to hold in his laughter, squirming under Stan’s touch, but it was all in vain as Stan continued his torture. He couldn’t even last five seconds. “St-stop! STAN! Stop! AHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! STOP IT! This is so mean! You ASS!” Ford screamed as he wiggled and giggled under Stan’s touch.

“No, that’s not quite what I was looking for. I’m wanting something more along the lines of ‘Oh my dear husband, I dreamed often of your sexy body’. Maybe if I try over here,” Stan cackled evilly as his wiggling fingers moved over to Ford’s other side.

“AHHAHAHAHAHAHA-YOU JERK! THIS IS UNACCEPTABLE! I WILL NOT GIVE YOU THE SATISFACTION OF-OF HEARING ME SAY SOMETHING SO LAME!” Ford bellowed, the smile on his face stretching so wide his lips began to ache. He hadn’t smiled like this or for so long before. He was still getting used to it.

“Man, yer not good at this game are you? Let me try one more time,” Stan murmured.

Ford’s laughter disappeared when his arms were suddenly trapped at his sides, large hands pinning his wrists with ease, being held down by nothing more than his husband’s brute strength. It was actually a little frightening. “St-Stan? What are you doing?” he stuttered as his stomach twisted nervously. Would Stan ever…? No. Never. Stan wasn’t that kind of person.

Ford’s thoughts were interrupted when a hot breath rolled over his skin, goosebumps rising on his breast as lips wrapped around his nipple and a tongue lavished the hard nub, the gentle sucking causing Ford to moan. He pulled on his arms, wanting to comb his fingers through Stan’s hair, but was unable to move. The bastard. “Stan, you’re not playing fair!” Ford groaned.

“And you haven’t told me what I wanna hear,” Stan shot back as he began to bite on the sides of Ford’s breast, sucking the flesh into his mouth.

Ford clenched his teeth as he did everything in his power to keep his mouth shut, but Stan was doing so many wonderful things to his body. And he was desperate. Far too desperate. Ford had _never_ been eager for sex before, but now it was all he could think about. He wanted that with Stan. He wanted to feel every bit of Stan on every bit of him. He needed it. Ford whined as he forced his lips apart. He had to confess. Stan needing to know what he did to him. “I’ve dreamt of this night even while I was awake. Ever since we kissed all I’ve wanted was to feel your skin against mine. Feel your breath on my sweat. Feel your big cock inside me. Fuck you have no idea how much I’ve thought about your cock. The length. The girth. The color. The shape. The texture. The amount of cum that I could get out of you. Fuck, Stan, _please_. Don’t keep me waiting any longer! Please!” Ford begged, rocking his hips.

Stan laid still on top of the prince. His heavy body like unmovable stone. The only noise audible was the sound of a loud gulp and then a shuddering breath as he slowly relaxed. “Th-that, ah, was more poetic than I was expecting,” Stan stuttered.

“Stan, _**please**_ ,” Ford cried as he tried to grind against him. Literally _begging_ for his husband to touch him.

Stan cursed and smashed his lips against Ford’s in a desperate kiss. Teeth clacking. Lips smacking. Words muffled as their communication turned into sounds of lust and need. The two moaned as their hands grabbed at each other’s bodies, pulling each other close as if they were trying to become one. Nails nipping into Ford’s skin. Desperate hands pushing and pulling on cascading robes, the fabric tickling Ford’s bare skin, igniting need within him.

“Stan, too much clothing,” Ford gasped as he began urgently tugging on the monster’s clothes.

A simple “okay” was all Stan could manage as he pulled free and slipped off the bed, followed by the sounds of clothing hitting the floor. An idea struck Ford and he sat up, scooting to the edge of the bed with a eager look on his face as he tossed his glasses aside. He would probably regret that later.

“Wait, Stan, there’s…there’s something I want to do. Something I want to do for you,” Ford said, his feet nervously rubbing together.

“Huh? For me?”

Ford smiled lightly, “Yeah. I want…I want to give you oral. Y-you’ve been servicing me all this time and…I want to make you feel good like you made me feel good.”

It took a few moments, enough time to make Ford sweat and stress and question himself, but Stan finally replied, “Are…are you sure that’s what you want? I don’t…I don’t want you to feel like you owe me anything. I did that for you,” Stan murmured slowly.

“I know you did. And I don’t want to do it because I feel like I owe you. I want to do it to make you feel good, Stan. I _want_ to please you,” Ford replied honestly.

He waited patiently for Stan’s reply, knowing that he needed to give him time.

It was worth the wait.

“Okay. If that’s what you want…okay,” Stan said with a deep breath.

“Stan, you have to want it too.”

“Of course I want it. My dick works just like any other dick. I just want to be careful. I _really_ don’t want to hurt you. I couldn’t live with myself if I did something so _awful_ to you-.”

“Stan, calm down. It’s okay. We both want this. If we both want it, we should do it. That’s all there is too it, honey,” Ford said as he stretched his hand into the darkness. Almost immediately fingers laced with his own, but Stan didn’t come any closer.

“It’s unfair,” Stan whispered.

Ford quirked a brow. “Unfair?”

Another chuckle fell from Stan’s lips as he squeezed Ford’s hand. “That I can see you being so beautiful and kind to me, but you can’t see me,” Stan said softly.

Ford blushed and his eyes widened as he self consciously closed his legs. “Y-you can see me?”

“Yeah. I’m not human, remember?”

“Oh…right. Well…what do you think?” Ford asked as he shyly turned his head away and spread his legs, exposing himself.

“ύψιστης ομορφιάς,” Stan murmured as he pressed his lips on the back of Ford’s hand.

Ford blushed uncontrollably and smiled, his teeth sparkling under the moonlight. “Well, ah, now that I’m fully embarrassed…did you want to lay down on the bed so I can…?”

“Ah, well, would it be alright if I sat on the bed? It would be more comfortable for me,” Stan replied sheepishly.

“Of course. As long as you direct me to the prize,” Ford said with a wink.

“Wow that’s literally the worst thing I’ve ever heard,” Stan said as he guided Ford to stand up and switch places.

“And yet I have a feeling that you’re still blushing,” Ford taunted as he slipped down to his knees, placing Stan’s clothes under him as a cushion.

Stan chuckled warily at the joke and Ford smiled in return. They were both so nervous. Ford took a deep, calming breath as he placed his hands on his husband’s legs. Coarse hair tickled his sweaty palms and he shivered while his hands traveled up to his meaty thighs. The amount of muscle on his husband had him drooling. He was so _thick_. Ford licked his lips. However, that wasn’t what he was he was looking forward to measuring. Stan let his hands slide further up his thighs, the hair never dissipating and his hunger for his husband growing. His heart hammered in his chest, growing louder and faster each inch his his hands slid closer to their goal, until he felt wide hips. Then his hands slowly moved in, shaking as his heart stilled in his chest. And then he felt it. Hard and swollen. Fleshy and swelteringly hot. Ford’s hand wrapped around the base of Stan’s cock and a line of fire raced up his spine at the sound of Stan’s moan. This was it. He finally had Stan’s penis in his hands. Ford gulped and slowly stroked Stan’s cock, his palms feeling the girth as his thumb traced veins. Ford shivered again as the urge to touch himself grew stronger. Stan was huge. Bigger than he had first guessed. And he guessed **_big_**. And it felt oddly human. He expected something with a weird shape and texture, but it was the same thing he had felt before. Just bigger. He created a slow and steady pace to bring Stan to his full length. It didn’t seem like it was going to stop growing and Ford feared that he would never fit that much inside himself, but he was willing to try anyways. He wouldn’t pass this up for anything.

“Shit,” Stan groaned as he rocked his hips forward. He was eager. Ford couldn’t blame him. He needed to take this up a notch. They needed more.

Ford pumped Stan’s cock a few more times, moaning at the feel of foreskin under his fingertips, and opened his mouth with his tongue dipping low, knowing full well that Stan could see every move he makes. His tongue brushed over the warm, wet tip of Stan’s cock and swirled around the bulbous flesh. Salty pre-cum gathered on his tastebuds and caused Ford to moan loudly as his grip tightened on his husband’s cock. More. He needed much more.

Without warning Ford opened his mouth wider and took half of Stan’s cock into his mouth, moaning and stroking the girth that was left untouched.

“Holy shit! Oh my-geh…hah! F-Ford take it slow. T-take it slow,” Stan begged as he tried to pull away.

Ford made a growl of disapproval and pulled Stan back into place by his hip as he sucked and lightly bobbed on the end of his cock. His tongue traced every vein with love as he groaned, his throat urging him to take more. Ford smirked. Stan was gonna love this. With one last full breath Ford took hold of Stan’s hips and yanked him forward, stuffing every last thick inch of Stan’s thick cock in his tight, wet throat. Stan let out a surprised scream as Ford mirrored the sound with a pleasured moan, the sound of sheets tearing echoing through the room. The girth. The reach. The _taste_. Stan’s cock was so _glorious_. Ford began bobbing his head, a smile curling on his lips at the sounds that rolled off of his lover’s tongue.

“F-Ford! Y-you can’t do…holy sh-shit…w-wait F-Ford! You shouldn’t-! Hah! Hngh! Fuckthatfeelsgood. Ford you shouldn’t…do this,” Stan gasped through his teeth.

Ford rolled his eyes and slowly pulled off with a lewd _pop_. “So you want me to stop?”

“Y-Yes,” Stan said as he struggled to regain his breathing.

“Am I hurting you?”

“W-well…no.”

“Did it feel good?”

“…yes…”

“So, again, do you want me to stop this?” Ford murmured as he pressed a kiss to the side of Stan’s cock, a vein pulsing under his lips.

Stan groaned as his cock twitched at the attention, undoubtedly starting to leak at this point. He gasped and his fingers clawed at the bed when Ford took him into his mouth once again. He yelped at the feel of Ford’s wet mouth closing around his cock. He shivered and shook as he slid deeper and deeper into Ford’s mouth in an indescribable amount of pleasure. He couldn’t lie anymore. “D-don’t stop. Please don’t stop,” he begged as his hips twitched.

Ford smiled in triumph and in one smooth motion he sank down on Stan’s cock until every inch swelled in his throat and tears appeared in his eyes. He had forgotten what it was like to have something in his mouth like this. This was far more enjoyable than any of those times where he was forced to do it. And the noises Stan was making were _sublime_ and made Ford’s cunt drip. Ford bobbed his head slowly to grow familiar with Stan’s girth as he reached out for Stan’s hand. He took hold of the big, shaking hand and lead it to his hair, encouraging Stan to take hold and pull. At first Stan didn’t know what to do. But as soon as Ford stopped bobbing his head Stan knew to take charge, his fingers tugging firmly on Ford’s locks. They were both moaning uncontrollably. Heat pooling in their bellies as they drew closer and closer to one another. Ford moaned and slipped a hand between his legs, body twitching when he rubbed his hard clit. He loved this. He loved the feel of Stan’s cock stuffing his throat. He loved the taste of Stan’s cock on his tongue. The way Stan pulled his hair and softly thrusted into his mouth. He loved all of it. He wanted more. He wanted to swallow his husband’s cum. He wanted to feel it on his face. On his body. He just wanted him and Stan to merge and feel this love and pleasure forever.

“Fuck! O-okay. We gotta stop. I-I can’t take anymore,” Stan stuttered as he pulled Ford off urgently.

Ford frowned as he felt the string of spit connecting his lips to Stan’s cock brake and drip down his chin. “Aw come on. I was having fun,” Ford pouted, pushing out his chest in enticement.

“I’m glad to hear that, but if I’m not careful the fun will be cut short,” Stan huffed as he released Ford’s hair.

“Hmm, while I wouldn’t judge you, it wouldn’t be completely fair to me if you did,” Ford snickered.

Stan chuckled in the darkness and Ford felt big hands grab onto his waist and lift him off the floor and toss him onto the bed as if he weighed nothing. Stan had to be outlandishly strong because ever since Ford started eating Stan’s food he had been gaining weight and built himself a nice little patch of fat over his belly, so he wasn’t as light as he used to be. Ford chuckled and smiled as he felt Stan’s hands slide down to his hips and then his thighs. Rough hands held onto his knees and parted his legs, one if those hands sliding down the underside of his thigh to press a thumb at his clit.

Ford gasped and threw back his head as he bit his lip, still smiling while Stan stroked his hard and extremely sensitive clit. “Ngh, Stan. You shouldn’t tease me like that,” Ford chortled as he rocked his hips.

“Hmm, you’re right. Should I just speed this up then?” Stan purred as he leaned in for a kiss as he slid two thick fingers inside his husband.

Ford moaned and kissed him back while grinding down on his large fingers, loving the way they stretched him. His arms wound around Stan’s neck and he pulled his lover closer as he shook under his touch as the fingers scissored him and pressed in deep. Stan sure knew how to make him melt.

“Ooo, you’re soaked. Did sucking my cock turn you on?” Stan chuckled as he nibbled on Ford’s ear.

“Y-yes,” Ford answered honestly, a large blush spreading on his cheeks.

“Seems like it. But it also looks like you want more than that,” Stan said as he pressed in a third finger.

A gasp fell from Ford’s tongue as he moaned again and rolled his hips. “Stan stop teasing! I-I need you right now!”

“Oh yeah?” Stan’s voice was dark and heavy, all play gone from his panting voice as he curled his fingers. He was nervous.

“Stan, please, I need you in me. Now. Please!” Ford begged. His nails dug deeply into Stan’s shoulders and pulled him closer as he pressed his body against Stan’s. He needed this more than he had ever thought he would. It wasn’t just lust. He wanted to feel Stan love his body like no one had ever done before. To feel someone build him up when they touched his skin instead of tear him down. To have his soul merge with another. To feel like he was more than a human or a piece of meat for grabby hands.

“Okay…okay…j-just give me a second,” Stan whispered.

Ford whimpered when Stan removed his fingers and dried them on the sheets. Ford rubbed his husband’s side slowly and ran his fingers through his hair, easing the monster’s nerves as he searched through the darkness for olive oil. Ford heard slick sounds and he blushed. Stan found the lubricant. It took time but soon Stan let out a trembling sigh as he moved his hips down and rocked his hips, brushing his cock over the lips of Ford’s cunt. A gasp fell from the prince’s mouth as he felt the head of Stan’s cock rub his clit, his hips lifting to match Stan’s movements. A curse pushed free from Stan’s teeth as he dropped his head in the crook of Ford’s neck.

“Stan? Are you okay? We don’t… ** _have to_** do this, you know,” Ford said slowly.

“I want it so bad. I want you so much. But I’m so scared of hurting you. I could never forgive myself,” Stan murmured.

Ford smiled and hugged Stan tightly, “After all this time we’ve spent with one another…I don’t think you could ever hurt me. You care for me too much to ever do that.”

The fabric shifted as Stan’s hands pulled on the sheets while they tightened into fists. “You trust me far too much,” he muttered.

“You’re surprisingly trustworthy,” Ford replied with a smile.

Stan chuckled and shifted on the bed, removing his head from Ford’s shoulder and adjusting his hips until only the head of his warm cock pressed against Ford’s entrance.

“You ready for this?” Stan asked, his voice stronger than it was moments ago.

“Dying for it,” Ford said as he spread his legs wider and guided Stan into a kiss.

The kiss was chaste and timid. But as Stan’s courage grew, so did their kisses. Ford moaned and parted his lips, excited to feel Stan’s tongue press against his own as the monster’s hips gently pressed forward.

Ford gasped. His fingers clung to Stan’s large shoulder as sweat beaded on his forehead, the thick blunt head of Stanley’s cock breaching his entrance and slowly pushing itself inside. Heat pooled in his belly as Stan groaned and he shivered while tightening around Stan’s member. Stan’s strong arms became weak as he pressed deep inside the prince, his cock stretching Ford wide, but leaving him tight enough to make Stan shake. Their kiss broke and their breathing stopped in unison as the two bit their lips until Stan was fully seated inside, pressed flush against Ford.

“You’re…you’re really big,” Ford whispered, the first to break the silence.

“You’re… _really_ tight,” Stan said back.

The two blushed vibrantly and refused to speak as they struggled to compose themselves. After a few moments Ford swallowed his anxiety bravely and wrapped his legs around Stan’s hips and locked his arms around his neck.

“Alright, let’s get moving. Can’t have me waiting forever,” Ford ordered, voice filled with bravado.

Stan chuckled shakily and pressed his forehead against Ford’s, “Yes, my love.”

Ford’s heart stuttered at his words as Stan pulled back inch by inch and pushed back only a few. Each shallow thrust becoming deeper, braver, harder, as the time past by. The heat between them building as their sweaty bodies ground against one another. A moan finally burst from Ford’s lips as he held on tighter to his husband and pressed his hips down, silently asking for more. Stan’s shuddering breath ghosted over Ford’s skin and cause goosebumps that were quickly rubbed away with light kisses.

“I’m gonna put a little more force in my thrusts, is that okay?” Stan asked as he took hold of Ford’s waist.

“Fuck, _yes_ ,” Ford whined.

Stan swallowed loudly as his arms slipped under Ford’s body and hugged him close and tight as he began grinding his hips, his cock pulsing and throbbing inside his husband.

“Harder,” Ford whispered.

He gasped when Stan did as he asked. His hips rocked back and forth at a steady pace, anxiety rolling off of wide shoulders as his movements became familiar.

“Come on, Stan. _Harder_ ,” Ford begged in a hushed voice.

A growl oozed from Stan’s teeth as his steady pace slowed while his hips gained momentum, his cock pushing deep inside his lover. Apparently he was hitting all the right places because noises came flying from Ford’s lips.

“Hah…hah…f-fuck. St-Stan, holy shit…y-you feel so good,” he groaned.

Stan’s cock swelled at the compliment while his teeth began nipping at his skin. He rocked his body against Ford’s and their sweat slick bodies rubbed against one another, his cock angled perfectly to strike that certain spot.

Ford cried out and immediately threw a hand over his mouth to hide the rest of his embarrassing noises. However, Stan took hold of his wrist and pinned it against the bed and freed the prince’s lips.

“Don’t hide those noises from me,” Stan said as he placed a light kiss on the man’s lips.

“Stan, that’s not fair,” Ford whined.

“You just told me to fuck you. You didn’t say anything about being fair,” Stan replied with a dark undertone to his voice.

Ford swallowed and chewed on the inside of his cheek as large hands roamed over his soft body. He didn’t want to make those embarrassing sounds. It was bad enough that Stan could see him.

“Come on. Moan for me,” Stan ordered as he began sucking on the skin just under Ford’s jaw.

The prince tightened his jaw. He wasn’t going to do it. No way. No how. Never.

“Aw, are you shy, now? Maybe if I do this you’ll talk to me,” Stan purred. His teeth sank deep into Ford’s neck as he bucked his hips hard, his cock stabbing deep into Ford’s dripping cunt.

“AHH! Fuck yes!”

Ford blushed at his vulgar tongue as Stan trembled against him, a long groan squeezing through his throat as he released Ford’s neck.

“Fuck that’s so hot,” Stan murmured breathlessly as his cock pulsed.

So Stan liked vocal partners. Ford’s toes curled as he gulped. He had always been forced to keep his mouth shut while he was being used by others, but Stan wanted him to be loud. Stan wanted the world to know what they were doing and that Ford _enjoyed_ it. Ford inhaled a brave breath as he puffed out his chest. He had always hated being quiet during sex.

“Thrust into me hard and pull on my hair,” he murmured.

“What?”

“Just trust me. Do it,” Ford urged.

Stan said nothing in reply but Ford felt fingers brush against his skull and take hold of his curly locks as his hips pulled back. His hips shot forward and buried his cock deep inside Ford as he tugged on his locks hard, causing Ford’s eyes to widen as fire raced across his body.

“ **FUCK**! Sh-shit yes…j-just like that, baby. Hard. Fast. That’s…that’s what I like,” Ford panted. His legs were shaking on Ford’s hips. He could barely hold on. That thrust packed quite a punch. It was amazing.

Rough hands took hold of his thighs and suddenly he felt his legs hoisted over large shoulders and he blushed again as Stan pressed him into a tight position.

“Better hold on, darlin’. This monster’s about to get _rough_ ,” Stan snickered with a sharp smile in his growling voice.

The sound caused Ford’s heart to flutter nervously in his chest, and before he could speak Stan began bucking and grinding into Ford, pushing loud cries and moans from the prince’s lips. Ford’s nails clawed at Stan’s shoulders as he lost control if his lips. Loud wails and passionate moans spilled from his tongue. His husband’s hot breath ghosted over his ear and shot shivers down his spine. Stan’s thick and throbbing cock rubbed and stretched the tight walls of his sex. The addictive sensation making Ford’s eyes cross as he moaned at the top of his lungs, moaning Stan’s name breathlessly.

“Fuck…Stan! Hah…sh-sh-shit! Mother…fuck! Y-you’re cock is so fucking **_big_** ,” Ford groaned, all sense of embarrassment having disappeared from his buzzing body.

“Yer one t’ talk. You have…no idea how good you feel,” Stan murmured.

Ford gasped. Teeth bit at his tender neck as a tongue lapped at the skin.

“So fucking tight. So soft. So **_wet_**. Never felt anything like this before,” Stan said softly as his hips struck Ford hard.

The prince cried out as he threw his head back, his whole body flooding with pleasure as he started to shake.

“You’re so beautiful, Ford. Every bit of you is breathtaking,” Stan panted. He was getting close.

“D-don’t lie,” Ford stammered as he shook harder. He was about to lose control. He could feel it building up inside of him. Growing desperate to escape.

“Would I lie to you?”

Stan had him there.

“You have no idea how crazy I am driven by you. Your soft skin. Your pretty brown eyes. Your skilled hands,” Stan said with a pervy grin in his voice.

“Sh-shut up,” Ford said with a smile.

“Your beautiful hair. Your gorgeous face. Your fantastic body. Your amazing voice. Your brilliant mind…”

Ford blushed as he bit his lip. Stan always encouraged his scientific research and always listened to what he had to say. His heart swelled in his chest as words laid patiently on his tongue. Words that he had been holding onto for far too long. Words that he had to get out.

Stan’s pace picked back up again and Ford was drowning in pleasure. His clit was throbbing. His limbs shaking. His toes curling. Uncontrollable noises falling from his lips. Stan’s lips praising him. His hairy and powerful body pressed naked against his. Sharing sweat. Sharing pleasure. Sharing…

He was so close. He couldn’t hold back.

“Stan…Stan I’m gonna…I’m gonna…cum!” Ford groaned through clenched teeth.

“Me too,” Stan gasped as his hips stuttered.

The words on Ford’s tongue filled his mouth as the heat in his belly bubbled out of control. His back arched off the bed as Stan took his nipple into his mouth, his tongue lavishing the nub once again.

He couldn’t hold it in any longer. He had to say it.

“Stan…Stan I love you!” Ford confessed with a sharp cry as Stan struck his g-spot again.

Ford’s whole body convulsed as he came. His screams of pleasure growing so loud that his voice disappeared from the force as lightning shocked him to his core. Stan’s cock teased his g-spot over and over again with firm thrusts, causing Ford to moan weakly as he squirted heavily all over Stan, soaking his stomach and thighs and the sheets below. When he was done he fell limp against the mattress, gasping and blushing as he slowly came down from his orgasm to the wet _squelch_ sound of Stan slowly thrusting into him.

His husband was still sucking on his nipple. His hips unsteady and stuttering in their thrusts. He was almost there. He just needed a little push. Ford chuckled and cupped Stan’s face with his hands and pulled him free from his breast, smiling at the darkness as he pulled his husband into a loving kiss with a few words, “Come in me.”

Stan whined and kissed him back as he thrusted inside him thrice more when he moaned and shook as he came. Ford bit his lip and moaned with him, tightening around Stan’s pulsing cock as hot cum spilled deep inside him. The large amount of cum filling him to the brim and stuffing his small womb. Ford smiled and hummed as Stan slumped against him, enjoying the feeling of Stan’s breath on his shoulder as they wound down.

“Did you mean it?” Stan murmured.

“Mean what?” Ford asked.

There was a pause then Stan’s arms wrapped around Ford.

“Do you really love me?” he whispered.

Ford smiled softly as he combed his fingers through Stan’s soft, thick hair.

“I do. I’ve loved you for longer than I was willing to admit,” Ford chuckled.

Stan’s arms tightened and held Ford into a firm hug. “I love you to, Ford,” he said, his voice breaking.

The two laughed and cried together as they slowly fell asleep in each other's arms, their hearts radiating love.


End file.
